Memories of hearing his father scold him for not speaking properly chased around in his head. Blake did everything he could to go against his father’s wishes, right down to speaking American English and not the Queen’s English.
“I spent summers at Albany when I was in boarding school. Every chance we could, my mother took my sister and I here to the States. I immersed myself in American culture.” Blake noticed the fog bank drifting closer as his mind drifted with it. “I rebelled against my father on many levels.”
“Do you think that dissension between the two of you prompted him to make it more difficult to collect your inheritance?”
Blake gave a curt shake of his head. “My father had to have the last word. Even in death.”
“Was he that awful in life?”
“My father was a typical British Royal. Old money filled his pockets and awarded him with the ability to be a pompous jackass whenever he wanted. He married my mother knowing he’d be unfaithful.” He remembered the first time he’d seen his mother crying over his father’s infidelity. A British tabloid splashed his father’s face over the cover with a woman ten years younger on his arm. That was when the trips to America began to shape Blake’s life. “He thought he was entitled to walk on people.”
“Why didn’t your mother leave him?” The softness in Samantha’s voice forced Blake’s attention away from the sea. Her bright green eyes watched him through lowered lashes, as if she were an intruder carefully trying to avoid detection.
“I don’t know. Money, probably. They never spoke of divorce. They lived separate lives most of the time. After my sister was born they stopped sleeping in the same room.”
“So was your hatred for how your father treated your mother what pushed the two of you apart?”
Did he really hate his father? Blake never put such a strong word to his emotions. He didn’t like the man, no doubt about that. “My father wanted me to be just like him. ‘Go to school, get an education, but don’t think you have to work more than a day a week.’” Blake let his father’s accent bleed into his mockery.
A sad smile spread over Samantha’s face. “So your rebellion was to make your own fortune.”
Blake sat taller. “I funneled my allowance into stock in the shipping company I now own. Halfway through college, I made my first million. My father was furious.”
“He wanted to control you,” Samantha said. “He couldn’t do that if you were a self-made man.”
Blake stared at his wife and had an overwhelming sense of pride. He couldn’t remember anyone every diving this deep into his past and concluding everything so perfectly. Samantha listened and truly heard what he said. “Exactly.”
“Tell me then, why work so hard to hold onto his money? It isn’t like you need it.”
“I considered walking away. But my sister, who only knows the lifestyle we were raised in, and my mother for that matter, don’t deserve to have their life ripped away. Not to mention we’re talking a hell of a lot of money.” He laughed, trying to put the somber walk down memory lane behind them.
Samantha appeared to simmer on the information for a few minutes as the last rays of the sun sizzled into the ocean.
“You know something, Blake?” she asked, her eyes left his and stared into the fading sun.
“What?”
“I’m starting to think you’re more martyr than mercenary.”
He huffed out a laugh, reached over, and took her hand in his. “This coming from a woman who married me to secure her sister’s care.”
Samantha snapped out of her haze and squeezed his hand. “Oh, no. Jordan.” She started to push up from her comfortable position.
“What is it?”
“It’s Saturday. I forgot about my weekly visit with my sister.” Samantha pulled her hand out of his. “I’ve got to go.”
“Isn’t it too late?”
Samantha waved his question away. “Of course not.” She sent him a curious glance. “Do you want to come with me? See where all your money’s going?”
Blake had a dozen things he should have been doing instead of revealing his past to his wife. He didn’t want to do any of it. “I’d love to meet your sister.”
Chapter Seven
“This place is amazing.” Eliza spun full circle in the middle of Blake’s formal livingroom. “I can’t believe you didn’t jump at living here the minute you guys came back from Vegas.”
“It didn’t feel right.”
“But it does now? What’s changed?” Eliza flopped down on an overstuffed sofa and crossed her legs.
Samantha lowered her voice even though the cook was busy preparing their lunch and the maid was upstairs doing god-knows-what. Blake needed to spend the day in his office, which left Sam with little to do. “We’re getting more comfortable together, I guess. The security here isn’t something I could manage in Tarzana.”
“You got that right. That Neil guy is kinda scary if you ask me.” Eliza walked around the bulky man when he met her at her car.
“He doesn’t say much.”
“He didn’t say anything to me. Just stared at me.”
“Blake insists he’s harmless to those who aren’t messing with him.” Samantha found herself in one of the Queen Anne chairs facing her friend. The soft silk pantsuit she wore drifted over her skin and made her feel like she wasn’t wearing anything at all. With the extra time on her hands, Sam took more time getting dressed in the morning, more time preening for her day.