Chapter 10 - Knowing him

Samantha woke up in a sweat, her throat dry, unable to voice a single sound. Taking deep breaths, she placed a hand over her heart, before losing control. Another nightmare. 1

She closed her eyes, conscious that they would never stop, but then looked up, towards the door, afraid he'd heard her. Nobody. Thank goodness. Having learnt to be silent through her nightmares served to something.

Sighing, she sat up, and planted her feet on the ground. There was no room for depression. This was her oasis, the weekend of life, she would not let those demons ruin it for her. Just because throughout these past weeks she had weakened, that did not mean she had given up. They would not win. Never.1

Glancing over at the clock on the nightstand, she noticed that barely a couple of hours had passed since she'd practically fled from Lucas, and it was now full evening. Thinking back, it'd been stupid, he'd probably worried, or thought she was shutting him out again, which would be a good idea, but ... not that appealing anymore.1

Wanting to make amends, Sam stood, feeling much better, and headed to the bathroom within the room. Once in front of the mirror, she reached for the patch on her forehead, and took it off: there was only than a small scratch now. Her gaze shifted to the plastered wrist. Lucas had told her they would remove it within a week. It didn't really hurt, although she had taken the medicine after breakfast.

With a sigh, Sam glanced at her reflex in the mirror. "Pretty messed up, aren't you?" she told herself. She never took much care in her appearance, specifically because she did not want to be seen, visibility was always a double-edged sword, yet right now she found herself wondering whether carrying makeup in her purse would help.

She looked pale, without glasses, the bags under her eyes were awfully evident, eyes that were swollen after the nap, her hair was a huge mess of tangled waves. Now as ever, Sam thought, she looked really pathetic. Sighing, she bent and, opened the faucet, splashed some water on her face, but that would barely help. Maybe a shower?1

Done that, Sam felt definitely fresher. In the bedroom she found her own clothes, and wore those: black pants, white shirt, black vest. Very formal, but she had nothing else. At least like that she could reduce the plain impression she made. Sam was aware that, wanting to look good only for his eyes was a horrible sign, but, once again, she banned all negative thoughts for the weekend.

Not having makeup, she resorted to simple chapstick after having combed her hair into a French braid, she wouldn't have worn the glasses, but she never brought contact lenses in her purse. Once ready, she inhaled deeply, and got out of the room. She could hear murmurs, somebody talking on the phone, in fact when she entered the kitchen, she found Lucas, once again, stuffing among stoves, while a loud female voice resonated from the speakerphone.

"If you're nervous, the soufflé will feel it, Lucas", the woman on the phone was saying.1

He sighed, frustrated, and dumped something into the dustbin. "That's ridiculous. What has my nervousness to do with a soufflé?"

"It's a delicate balance, honey." The woman sounded older, Sam realized, instantly feeling a little less irritated, even while not knowing why.1

"Oh, come on, mom!" Lucas whined. Sam barely retained a chuckle. He sighed. "Ok, I'll switch to the lava cake," he convened, putting a bowl with butter and chocolate chips in the microwave.

"So what else have you prepared?" His mother asked.

Cracking one egg, then adding it to another bowl he'd just taken, Lucas listed: "Uh ... bruschetta, spaghettoni with nolche olives, lemon scented tomatoes and oregano, then cotoletta Milanese, and ... caprese salad." More than awe at the amount of things, Sam was amused by his way of spelling Italian words.

His mom chuckled over the phone. "Since when do you cook Italian?"

"I looked up the recipes on the Internet."

"Why?"

Lucas blushed, biting his lip as he reached for the cupboard, to grab the mixer. "Um ... because she is ... Italian, mom." He would have sworn he'd heard a loud gulp coming from his sister, but also his mother sucked in a breath, evidently surprised.1

"She?" Despite the excitement in her voice, he woman sounded relatively calm. Opposite to Sam's heart.

"My-uh ... friend, yeah, she is ... Italian. So I thought, um ... maybe Italian dinner could be nice? You think I'm overdoing?"4

Carolyn Grant chuckled at her son's wary question. "It depends, honey. How important is this girl for you?"

He couldn't have known that, but Samantha's heart did somersaults when he, candidly, replied: "She means everything, mom. Everything."8

His mother smiled, happy. "Then you can never overdo."

Before any other inopportune confessions could be made, Samantha decided it was better to make herself known, therefore cleared her throat. Lucas turned around abruptly, conscious he'd almost been busted. "Sam!" he nearly shouted, taken off guard, eyes wide. "I mean, hey! You're awake!"

She smiled warily as she walked over to the island, and because he kept staring at her, as if he were seeing a ghost, she hinted at the phone.

"Right", Lucas mentioned, clumsily going to retrieve his device from the counter, turning off the speaker. "Uh ... mom, I gotta go, I'll call you tomorrow, okay? Say hi to Rachel from my part, and tell her I've recharged her card this morning, she can already go to the ATM. Yeah, maybe she shouldn't retrieve everything ... uh, it's a couple thousand, as usual. Oh, mom, come on, she's 16, needs useless stuff, like her peers. No, I'm not spoiling her, she knows I want results. Mom ... listen, we'll talk about it another time, alright? I really gotta go now." He ended the call quickly and awkwardly, then stared back at Sam, afraid of her reaction.4

He knew her, finding out he cared that much about her would freak her out, and she would flee. Again. Lucas was ready to go after her if she took off for the door with the lamest excuse.1

Yet, once more, she surprised him. "I haven't eaten Italian since I came to USA, so thanks."

"Uh ... you're ... welcome." He answered clumsily, baffled. She hinted at his hands, so he recalled the mixer. Unable to think of anything to say, Lucas merely went on mechanically preparing the lava cake, while she watched, mesmerized. He was frantic, nervous, as he usually never was. Was it her fault?1

Sam bit her lip, recalling his words. She means everything. She wondered if she'd ever find the guts to admit out loud how much she cared about him, too. She wondered whether pursuing this friendship would bring troubles, whether she would be able to keep it simple, despite all those feelings.

She wondered if, after all, Lucas Grant was worth taking the leap. And if he was, would she do it? Or would she just keep on hiding behind necessity? For how long would she keep on caging her heart? How long would her walls resist, before this odd billionaire tore them down?1

***

"Tell me about it." Sam demanded, sipping mulled wine.

"What?" Lucas asked, confused, mirroring her move with the glass.

"Your career. How did you get where you are?"

He frowned. "Why do you ask?"

She shrugged. "I'm just curious." In truth, she wanted to get to know him better, and his career seemed like a neutral field to start from. After a whole dinner packed with aimless chitchat, she needed real info. Not that she hadn't enjoyed their banter, but she wanted to know more about this odd billionaire, instead of just rely on what tabloids and gossipers said.1

Lucas leaned against his chair, inhaling deeply. "Well, I started in college. I worked as PA for some wolf of Wall Street, merely to gain some money, then I found a job in a computer firm, a small one, where they produced hardware. It was at the beginning of senior year that the right idea struck me. I spent every penny I'd saved to start up the company."

He paused to sip some wine. "I won't lie, I had to lick some boots in order to find angel investors, but I made it." He bit his lip, a little guilty. "Maybe I kinda exploited the fact that there was this girl, a friend's sister, she had a quite known IT blog, and ... she kinda had a crush on me, so I ... well, yeah, I took advantage of that, a little ..."1

Sam frowned, marveled. "You actually exploited someone's feelings to your advantage? I don't believe you. You'd never do such a thing."

He chuckled, flattered that she would think so high of him. "Well, it's not that I flirted, I gently asked if she could help me make my startup known, and she eagerly agreed ... on condition that I took her out on a date."

Sam giggled, covering her hand. "So it was actually her to exploit your predicament, not you."

He shrugged. "I guess we both did that." He sighed. "To be honest, I'm not proud of some things I've done to get where I am, but they served to help me reach my goal, so I would do them again."

"What kind of things?"

"Well, like the one with this girl ... then there was this lady, a friend of that Wall Street guy I worked for, she took a liking on me, and when we saw each other again at a university event, I pitched her the idea I was working on, and she said we should talk about it over dinner ..."

Sam gasped, disbelieving. "You didn't!"

Lucas bit his lip, guilty. "I ... did. But in my defense, she'd already accepted to invest in my startup. The rest was ... um ... the wine's fault, I guess."1

She would have laughed, but he looked truly flustered, therefore she kept it. "Well, that doesn't seem so bad."

"I practically sold my body for the sake of the company, how's that not bad?"1

"You said it wasn't for the money."

He snorted. "Only you believe that."

She smiled. "Yes, I do. Because I know you'd never break your moral values."

Lucas blinked his eyes, marveled. "You seem to think real high of me, Sam. You sure I deserve it?"

Her smile remained unfaltering as she nodded. "Honestly, I do think high of you, Lucas, yes. I think you're a great man, and not only because you do so much for charity – I've seen that piece on you on TV, it's incredible –, but because I ... I guess I know you better than before, and you're such an odd billionaire. Beyond the likable part, where you're so funny and clever and kind, there's the part where you've worked so hard to reach your goal, and there's my gut ... I never trust my gut, yet this time it tells me to believe in ... well, you, and I listen."2

She took a deep breath, knowing that such words might jeopardize the careful balance she kept. "When I say I trust you, Lucas, I mean I am sure that you would never do harm, not to me, nor anyone, because, unlike other businessmen, you live by a very straight moral compass, and you hardly let it stray. Working for you also helps knowing you as a person, more than just a boss, Lucas, but what taught me who you really are is, obviously, this ... well, thing we have. Whatever it is."2

Sam cleared her throat, concluding, for how nervous. "So yeah, I trust you, Lucas, and I believe in you." Just try not to make me regret my words, she would have added, but kept it. Maybe it was the wine, or that admission she'd overheard, but she was glad she'd voiced those things, because they came straight out of her heart, a muscle she barely ever trusted, therefore as reliable as ever now.2

Lucas was speechless, his heart was racing furiously once again, his mouth was agape. Her words brimmed with honesty, she really believed in every single thing she said. Hopefully, he thought, that high esteem would soon turn into love.

***

"Tell me about your family." Sam requested, facing him, crisscross on the couch. After dinner she'd decided to change into a pair of his sweatpants and t-shirt, mostly because she'd dropped some wine onto her own shirt, but also because that way she would be more comfortable when chilling in the living room with him.

Lucas smiled, leaning against the back of the couch, his knees bent to his side. "You're so talkative tonight, and so curious ... is it the wine?"

She giggled, then covered her mouth. "Maybe." She was indeed a little tipsy, but still lucid. "I just wanna know my only friend better, can I?"1

Lucas' lips parted at the words only friend. It should have sounded negative, signaling she was lonely, yet to his ears it was flattering. He was more than inside the circle, he was the sole participant aside from her.2

"You said you have a sister." Sam mentioned, so that he focused back on their talk other than on the chances he may have of finally getting to her heart.

"Yes, Rachel. She's 16, so being 12 when she was born, I was well used to being only child, so you'll understand she kinda revolutionized my life", he smiled, reminiscing, "in a good way, though."

Noticing the proud glint swimming in his ocean blue eyes, Sam, ignoring the way her heart skipped a few beats, barely able to bite back her own smile, nudged: "Tell me about her."

Lucas' smile widened as he thought of his baby sister. "Rachel is ... well, she's a little genius. She loves science and math, says she wants to be a neurobiologist, at least for now, last year it was theoretical physicist, next year, who knows. 2

She was supposed to attend advanced classes, she would have graduated much earlier, but she refused, as well as she refused my help to pay her a private school, saying she wanted to be with her friends. How could I argue with that?" He frowned at the next words: "She's had some troubles with kids befriending her only because of who her brother is, but ... she solves it, or so she says."1

"She must be living in your shadow ..."

"Not really. Normally siblings would be happy but jealous of each other's success, but Rachel, she just says she's glad she's got a rich brother to pester when she wants something mom can't or doesn't want to give her."2

Sam chuckled. "Your bond seems strong."

He smiled tenderly, nodding. "It is. I mean, yeah, she's a real pain in the ass most of the time, and I was her babysitter so it wasn't really easy, but ... I love Rachel to bits, and I love the relationship we have. You know, because I'm 12 years older than her, it's not always easy, I've been also a bit of a father figure, but ... I like to think we're best friends, despite the gap."

Sam smiled, rejoicing of his own, seeing that countenance brightened up by the light of the love he so evidently felt for his baby sister, to some extents, it made her feel jealous. Because there was one person in his life that counted more than anything and that might always come first. 1

Then again, Sam admitted to herself, maybe she wasn't first in his heart, but she counted something, to the very least, and wasn't it better like that? To be just one more person in his life, other than the one? It would make the separation, when it would happen, much easier. At least for him.1

Before the most negative thoughts could take over, Sam asked: "What about your parents?"

"My mom is a middle school Math teacher." His smile faded the slightest. "My dad, he ... he was a firefighter. Died in the line of duty eight years ago."

Sam gasped, conscious they'd touched a raw nerve. "Oh, I'm sorry, Lucas, I didn't know ..."

Lucas smiled faintly, eyes trained on the grey stuff of his sweatpants that she was wearing. "It's alright."

"I shouldn't have asked, I'm sorry, I-"

"No, it's okay, Sam, really." He looked up, evidently choked up. "I ... I just miss him. That's all."1

Sam nodded in understanding, and let silence creep in. She observed her friend, who now looked distant, as if lost in thought, the idea that he was now being chewed up by his memories made her feel guilty, yet on the other hand, she felt like that was a big discovery. Lucas looked always in a good mood, always in good spirits, but apparently he had his share of pain, too.2

She would have wanted to do anything, in order to relieve him, but didn't know what, she didn't have much experience with emotions, and even though she knew what it felt like to lose a parent, she had no idea how to voice it, the memory was too blurred and confused to express it in words.

Hence, all she resorted to was reaching out, and covering his hand with hers, making him flinch, but offering him a warm smile when he looked up, or her best attempt at it. Sam's heart skipped a few beats when he entangled their fingers, but she said nothing, thinking he needed comfort, and that was the least she could do.1

The warmth of his hand in hers enflamed every fiber of her being, it sent shivers along her spine, had her throat dry, her heart vibrate, and her mind set off all the possible alarms. She should have retrieved her hand immediately, before feeling too much, but she resisted as long as possible, wanting to make him feel better.

"I've never really told anyone, you know," Lucas mentioned, visibly touched. "I mean, I ... I've never said out loud what I felt. Rachel was only 9, it was already hard enough telling her she was not supposed to wait up for her dad anymore, and mom ... well, she locked up in herself, so I guess ... I guess I just took it all on my shoulders, then it became just harder and harder to speak up."2

Unconsciously, Sam neared his face, and caressed his cheek, catching one stray tear that had dared falling. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Lucas sighed, pulling back a little, cleansing his face. "It's fine. I'm okay, I just ...", one more sigh, "it just hurts like it's the first day. That's all."1

"That's why you should unburden yourself."1

He looked into her eyes. "To you? Then what happens between us? Aren't we supposed to keep it simple?"

Sam bit her lip, guilty. She didn't need to say it out loud, did she? It simple transpired from her expressions, her behavior, he could sense very clearly how much she craved to keep their bond as shallow as possible. How could she tell him she'd partly changed her mind?

She scooped a little closer and, taking him off guard, Sam pulled him down, so that he would rest his head on her lap, facing her. "If you need to talk, I'm right here." She stated, raking a hand through his hair.1

Lucas sighed, uncertain. She meant good, he knew that, but opening up wasn't that easy. It'd been eight years since that horrible night, and he'd never found the strength to talk about it, now he was supposed to do just that, and to whom? The one girl that held his heart captive. He so wanted to vent out, ramble on and on about everything he felt, confide to her, but ... it was a double-edged sword. Sam had been less guarded that day, she seemed a totally different person, but how long would that last?

Lucas was in for it, he was in for the biggest challenge, being by her side, remaining close to someone as complicated as Samantha Benedetti, but ... his heart ached, he couldn't ignore that. Maybe she'd decided that she could lower her guard for a weekend, but then? After Sunday she would return her usual cold self, while he, he would still have to deal with his lovesick heart.

It was a delicate balance, and while being sure she was worth taking the leap, Lucas couldn't help hesitating. Maybe it was the fresh memory of the heartache he'd experienced losing his dad, but now as ever, he felt hesitant. The gentle smile on her face was enough to push him off the cliff once for all. After all, if he didn't give all himself, he'd never succeed.1

Taking a deep breath, conscious that baring his heart out like that would radically change their bond, more than an afternoon of banter and laughter ever could, Lucas started: "He was 45 when it happened. It was ... at the beginning of my senior year in college." Pause.

Sam let her hand rub his scalp, in an attempt at soothing him, and he closed his eyes, rejoicing of that small touch. She focused on his features, so incredibly perfect, but it was his words that had her heart clench: "There was a fire in a warehouse. It was supposed to be abandoned, but it was full of homeless people that slept there.

Dad wasn't even supposed to be on duty, he'd exchanged shift with a friend of his, because the guy's wife was on labor. They worked hard to save everyone, and they did, but right when they thought they'd made it, they heard a voice from the fifth floor. No matter how much his chief shouted him not to, dad just ran back inside."

As he pressed his eyelids, Sam noticed the quivering of his lips, and a lonely tear escaped, staining his cheek. Sam's heart sank at the sight. How much did she crave to take that pain out of his chest!1

"The girl was blocked under a beam, and the ceiling was about to crash on her, but dad was able to free her. They made it to the first floor, but dad barely had the time to throw the girl in the arms of one of his colleagues, that the stairs crumbled and he ..." Lucas swallowed, "fell, the rest of the stairs crashing on him. There was nothing to do. He died on spot."

Abruptly, Lucas found himself squeezed into a tight embrace, one he'd never tried, but that had his heart do somersaults. She was hugging him, truly, not awkwardly, not momentarily, not forcedly, Sam was holding him close, and he could feel true sorrow in her voice when she spoke in his ear: "I'm sorry."

Taken aback, only after a minute Lucas responded to her touch, circling her torso, feeling comforted merely by that touch. It was strange, it'd taken him so long to recount that story out loud, yet now he felt ... lighter.

As if a huge load had been taken off his shoulders, and the sole fact that Sam took him in like that, it gave his heart the defibrillation it needed to restart pumping life through his veins, to overcome that heavy boulder clogging him, to set back in motion the memories of his father that he'd shut down not to hurt. It was amazing.2

One mere hug, and Samantha had been able to free him from the cage he'd trapped his heart in. Well, maybe it wasn't just that hug. Maybe it was her, and the way she was meant to change his life, completing it.