BRIAN RACED TO SAMANTHA’S HOUSE as fast as he could. She sounded frantic on the phone, not fearful, but furious–and hurt. He racked his brains, trying to figure out what he could have done to bring her to such a state, but could think of nothing.
He would know soon enough. Her car was already in the driveway.
Brian knocked quietly. Samantha’s voice called from the other side of the door.
“It’s open,” she said.
Brian walked in. “Why are you leaving your front door unlocked?” He barked, seeing her standing in the living room. “Do you know how dangerous that is?”
“You knew Dana before,” she whispered. “You knew her from the Hotel Bentmoore.”
Brian’s tirade was stopped short as all the air in his chest deflated. “Yes,” he admitted. “It’s true. How did you find out?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Tears were pooling in Samantha’s eyes. “Why did I have to hear it from someone else?”
“Because I have to keep my clients a secret, Samantha, even former clients. You know that. The Hotel Bentmoore prides itself on secrecy and anonymity. Just because I don’t work there anymore doesn’t mean I can start sharing confidential information with everyone.”
“Jake knew! It wasn’t so confidential!”
“Dana must have told him, and he made the choice to tell you. Which he’s probably regretting now,” he said. “But that’s not the point. I cannot give out my guests’ information, no matter who else knows.”
Tears dripped down her cheeks, and her voice caught. “So this is how it’s going to be, isn’t it Brian? Every woman we meet, every woman you talk to, every woman you want to play with, I’m going to have to wonder if she’s a former lover! Tell me, how many women were you with at the Hotel Bentmoore? Hundreds? Thousands? Are all of them going to end up back here, begging for another chance to play with you, to fuck you? How many others have there been besides Dana? How many former guests have you played with since you left the Hotel Bentmoore?”
“None,” he said, taken aback by her vehemence. “Dana is the only woman I’ve played with since leaving the Hotel Bentmoore who used to be a guest–besides you. Why are you so upset about this? What’s the big deal that she used to be a guest of mine?”
Samantha groaned, making a noise that sounded like a wounded animal, and rolled her eyes. “‘Why is this a big deal?’ Well, I guess for you, it’s not a big deal. You’ll just play with any woman who’s willing to beg for it, won’t you? And if you’ve played with her before, even better! Makes life easier for you! You already know all her deepest, darkest secrets, all those little ways to take her to her breaking point.”
Brian’s eyes grew stormy blue, and his voice went down several octaves. “Samantha, I don’t know where all this is coming from, but you need to calm down right now,” he said. His back was stiff, and his voice held that tone of command that usually got Samantha’s instance attention. Samantha didn’t care.
“You asked me not to mind if you play with other women. But how can I be okay with it, if I always have to wonder if it’s someone you know from your years at the hotel? Someone you’ve known longer than me, played with longer than me? You tell me honesty is so important, but you keep these secrets from me!”
“Sweetheart, I wasn’t trying to keep things from you,” Brian said. Samantha turned her back on him, and when he tried to touch her shoulder, she flinched. Brian lowered his hand. “I didn’t want to keep this a secret, but I am not allowed to tell you about what I did at the hotel. Don’t you see the difference?”
“Don’t you see it doesn’t matter?” Her voice was low, and held an air of finality that scared Brian. “Secrets are secrets, Brian, no matter why you think you have to keep them. I can’t always wonder if you’re introducing me to a woman you already know, someone you’ve had sex with, someone you’ve been intimate with from your years at the Hotel Bentmoore. You would lie to me to keep their secrets, and make me walk around wondering. I can’t even believe you would think it’s okay to do this to me!”
“Because it’s not a big deal!” He shouted, feeling desperate. She was pulling away from him in every way that mattered, and he didn’t know how to make it stop. “I didn’t feel anything for them! It was just play!”
“Then how can you say it’s something more with me?” She shouted back, sobbing.
“Because it just is!” Brian’s own voice cracked. “Here’s another piece of truth I didn’t mention before: I didn’t just decide to leave the Hotel Bentmoore. I was fired, Samantha. Because after my weekend with you, I couldn’t do my job anymore. All my guests started seeing other hosts, every single one of them, because I couldn’t give them what they needed. Instead of focusing all my attention on them, I could only think of you, and how you felt in my arms. And after Mr. Bentmoore let go of me, I went to Phoenix, looking for you.”
He puffed out his breath as Samantha’s eyes grew large. “Yeah, I was practically stalking you, sweetheart. Because I couldn’t get my mind off you, because even then, I knew you were different. You weren’t like any of the women I had ever played with before. But you had disappeared in Phoenix, I couldn’t find you. So I took the job with Jake and came here. Can you imagine how I felt that night at the dance club, when I saw you again? Can you even understand how happy I was? I felt like I’d been handed a miracle.” His voice lowered. “So no, I don’t think all those other women are a big deal. I love you, Samantha. Why can’t you accept that?”
“I do, Brian,” she said. “Because I love you, too. But I can’t accept all the secrets.”
“I can’t change who I was. You need to accept me for who I am now.”
“I know.” Another sob escaped her. “I need time. Time to think.”
“Samantha, please.”
“Give me some time, Brian. Please.”
“Okay.” He raked a hand through his hair; his fists clenched. “Okay. Call me as soon as you can, okay?”
“Okay.”
He swung open the door. “Remember to lock this,” he said without turning around.
The door shut softly behind him, the sound of grim finality.
