“So what? I work for them. Carl had no right to go through my stuff.”

Samson nodded. “Yes. But he saw them. And I understand now that you had every right to have those files on you. I know that now. Because I now know that you work for me.”

Confused, she looked at him. “I don’t work for you. I work for Scanguards,” she insisted and grabbed her suitcase. “And besides, what’s it to you who I work for? I didn’t think you were all that interested in what I do.” She tried to push past him to get to the door, but he blocked her escape.

“You work for me. I am Scanguards. I own it.”

Delilah stopped in her tracks, and Samson instantly realized that this was news to her. She hadn’t known that he was the owner of Scanguards, that he was worth in excess of a few hundred-million dollars. His heart jumped when the realization settled in, when he understood that his fear had been unfounded. She wasn’t after his money, because she’d had no idea how filthy rich he really was.

Samson could see that she was trying to make sense of his words. But then it was like a dark cloud settled over her face. Her jaw dropped, and she glared at him.

“You thought I was after your money? Oh my God! You thought I slept with you because … Oh my God!”

The pain he saw in her eyes hurt him deep in his chest. If he’d thought telling her who he was would make her understand why he’d acted the way he had, it had backfired. It had actually made it worse. Much worse.

“I’ve never felt so cheap and dirty in my life. I felt cleaner when you thought I was a stripper. But you thought … you thought I would … no, no …”

She ran for the door, but he leapt in front of her and stopped her. He wanted to take her into his arms and kiss her pain away, apologize with his body for everything he’d done. But he knew she’d push him away. He had hurt her, his lovely mortal, and it pained him more than if he’d been hurt himself. At this point he’d do anything to make her pain go away.

“Please tell me what you want me to do to make it up to you.”

She stared at him, her eyes glistening with the tears she was holding back. “You think you can buy me? Haven’t you humiliated me enough? Keep your damn money and get out of my way!”

“Please stop for a minute, and listen to me.”

“Why? Don’t you already know everything you want to know? Isn’t that why you assigned me a bodyguard today? So you could spy on me? Do you control all your women like that?”

“Delilah, it was for your own safety. I never wanted to hurt you, believe me. But you scared me.” He was scared alright, scared of what she could do to his heart. Maybe it was better if he told her upfront what she’d done to him.

“Scared you? How? Because you’ve been slumming it with a poor little auditor? Yeah, that’s downright scary,” she bristled full of sarcasm.

“Don’t say that. It’s the things you make me feel when I’m with you. That’s what scares me.”

“Stop lying to me.” She shot past him and ripped the door open. Her suitcase in her hand, she rushed down the stairs. Samson was right behind her, not willing to let her go.

The entrance door opened a second before she reached it. A sudden blast of cold air entered the foyer and with it Ricky and Thomas. Ricky stared at Delilah and then at Samson who was only a step behind her.

“I don’t think you should let her leave, Samson.” He slammed the door shut before she could exit. Samson heard her frustrated sigh as she attempted to get past Ricky.

“I’m not letting her leave.”

“Good. ‘Cause somebody killed John Reardon. And she might be next.”

“John?” Delilah’s voice was just a hoarse whisper. She dropped her suitcase to the floor where it made a loud thump.

Samson exchanged surprised looks with his two friends. Did she know him?

Delilah braced herself on the wardrobe. A split-second later Samson was by her side; he wrapped his arms around her and led her into the living room. He wouldn’t let her leave, not now, not ever.

Samson gently sat her on the couch and stayed close to her. Keeping his arm around her, he was relieved to feel she didn’t push him away.

“Ricky, pour Delilah a brandy, will you?”

His friend complied eagerly and handed him the glass a few moments later. Samson led the brandy to Delilah’s lips and made her sip from it as he brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

“Here you go, sweetness.” His voice took on a soothing tone while he stroked her arm tenderly. She didn’t protest. He knew she hadn’t forgiven him yet, but right now she was in shock, and he would do anything to make her feel better. Later, he’d seek her forgiveness. And then there was another hurdle to jump over—but she wasn’t ready for that yet.