His Dutchess

chapter 12

The media must have given up she thought as she walked up the steps to her townhome. There weren’t camera-holding forty-something-year-olds ducking behind bushes or zooming in from the corner. She stepped into her house, tossed her keys on the entryway table, and started for the stairs.

When the doorbell rang, she twisted around and opened it on impulse. Mid swing, she realised she was probably inviting an undesired picture, one that would have Blake shaking his head tomorrow.

But the person beyond the door wasn’t a reporter, or a photographer in pursuit of a quick buck.

It was worse.

Vanessa.

The woman staring back at her was everything Samantha was not. She had

blonde hair so pure it couldn’t possible come from a bottle, with high cheekbones and brilliant blue eyes. Long legs peeked under a tailored silk skirt that never saw a rack in a department store.

Well, Blake had good taste in women, she’d give him that.

“You know who I am.” Vanessa van Buren, was not the jilted lover Samantha would have pegged for showing up unannounced. A peek from afar, maybe, but to knock on her door took some guts. The boisterous Jacqueline had been Sam’s bet.

She was wrong.

“And you know who I am.”

Vanessa’s gaze swept up and down Sam’s frame and a smirk skimmed her lips. Vanessa was dressed in Gucci, Samantha in Target. There was a time when Samantha was younger, before the fall of her father, that a friend had given her a piece of friendly advice. She’d said, ‘Don’t go into battle without a full arsenal.’

Samantha and a high school rival were both trying to capture the attention of a boy at the time. From that day forward, Samantha never left home without a full face of makeup and a designer label on her back.

She glanced down at her cotton shorts and t-shirt that said, ‘joggers keep the pace,’ and cringed.

“Are you going to invite me in?”

That’s sooo not going to happen. “I don’t see the purpose.”

Vanessa stepped forward and pushed her way in anyway. Samantha considered stopping her, but would have had to restrain her physically. That picture in the morning tabloid probably wouldn’t bode well for Blake or Samantha.

Samantha shut the door and kept Vanessa from walking further in the room.

“That’s far enough.”

“This won’t take long.” Vanessa’s voice held tightly controlled anger, her eyes kept a constant surveillance of the room. “What could Blake possibly see in you?”

Sam crossed her arms over her chest. “Are your claws always out? Or do you put them away at night?”

“Clever. Do you know I slept with him just two weeks ago?”

Several retorts came to her lips, but Sam squelched them. “Blake and I never wanted to hurt anyone.” Sam did her level best to avoid the image of the two of them doing the naked tango.

“Blake hurts everyone… eventually. You’ll discover that soon enough.”

“I really think you should leave.” Samantha was ready to stop playing nice.

This wasn’t a woman who was in love with a man; this was a snake coiling for a strike.

“Does he know about your father? About the sordid family you have hiding in your past?”

Samantha’s jaw tightened and her nails dug into her arms. “Blake knows everything.”

The cold calculated stare in Vanessa’s eyes held a hint of knowledge.

“Everything? Are you sure about that?” She had nothing to hide… well, almost nothing to hide. Samantha’s sins were buried so deep, not even her connections could find them.

“You sound like a desperate woman, Vanessa. I have to tell you, it doesn’t look good.”

The smirk on the other woman’s face fell. “There is nothing about me screaming desperation. You, on the other hand, are a poster child for the word.”

“Ding, ding, this round’s officially over.”

Samantha opened the door wide, not caring who snapped the shot. “Move it, or I’ll be forced to shove my Nikes up your Prada.”

Her rapid heartbeat was aching to do some serious kicking.

“Careful, you don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

Samantha shoved her frame as close to Vanessa as she could without touching her. “Lady, you’ve no idea what I’m capable of. To think, when Blake told me about you, I actually felt sorry for you. What a waste. I’m not sure what he was thinking.”

Venom spiked from the other woman’s eyes. Turning on her heel, Vanessa slid on dark glasses and marched to a red sports car parked on the street.Slamming the door would have proven how far the catty woman had dug herself under Samantha’s skin. Instead, she closed it and slumped against the frame. Her hands started to tremble as the force of the encounter raced through

her bloodstream.

The sound of gravel being kicked up from a car met her ears. “That was pleasant.” Sam pushed away from the door and reached for her purse. Not wanting to talk, she opened up her text messaging and pressed Blake’s cell number.

*Do I win a prize for being right? *She text her husband.

While waiting for his reply, she locked the door and made her way up the stairs to the shower.

Her phone buzzed on the top step.

*Right about what? *

*Just met your blonde viper. Not sure what you saw in her past the obvious. * And because she really didn’t trust herself to speak, she added. *Getting in the shower, talk later. *

Sam tossed her phone on her bed and strode to the bathroom. Her nerves started to settle, slowly. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror. The morning mist played havoc with her hair, her face held a hint of chapped-red on her cheeks. “What a mess.”

In the other room, her phone rang.

She ignored it.

Samantha tugged her shirt from her body and tossed it in the hamper. Her high-school friend’s words rang in her ears. “Full arsenal.”

“You know something, Blake. I think I’ll take you up on your open credit card.” With women like Vanessa showing up, she might as well suit for battle. Having been born with a proverbial silver spoon in her mouth, she knew how to play. She’d just chosen not to.

Until now.