Chapter 8 - Breaking down

Samantha was awaken by a delightful aroma that filled her nostrils, nudging her to open her eyes, which she did, slowly, keeping the same pace as she sat up. She felt better, still a little weak, but way better than before falling asleep.

Gazing outside the large windows, she realized it was morning already. Just how much had she slept? She recalled having agreed to stay just a few hours, Lucas had made her some hot cocoa, and she'd lied back on bed, drifting off to sleep peacefully for once.1

Samantha wondered how came she had no nightmares, but maybe the simple exhaustion had chased them away, she did use that trick, tiring herself out as much as possible for that exact purpose, besides, drowsiness due to the attack and the injuries certainly helped in this case as well, which was pure luck, because, had Lucas heard her or worse, seen her, how could she have faced him then?1

Samantha heaved a sigh, fully aware of how much trouble was she getting into, but more importantly, how much trouble could she bring into his life. Lucas was a fool if he thought he could handle a bond with her, whatever the type was, and if he wasn't willing to admit that, it was up to her to keep distances. For the sake of both.

She leisurely lifted the covers, and planted her feet onto the cool ground. Feeling slightly stronger, she stood, her head felt still dizzy, but she was fairly able to stand and even walk without too many troubles. Looking down at herself, she was surprised to realize she was wearing a large t-shirt and a pair of shorts that evidently looked quite big on her. His clothes, definitely, she thought. 1

Samantha felt herself blushing at the idea of wearing Lucas' clothes, things he'd actually worn at some point, it felt weird yet intimate, an odd type of intimate. She'd never admit it, but it was hard to keep herself from sniffing that t-shirt, just to see if she could smell his own essence. Lucas always had that singular scent, she realized, it was an odd mix of some mainstream eau along with nature and ... something she couldn't quite decipher. It was nice.

Shrugging off the weird thought, Samantha slowly took steps towards the door, and twisted the handle to open it. After months of secret encounters, she was quite well acquainted with his penthouse, even though she'd mostly seen his bedroom along with the hallway, therefore she easily spotted the kitchen.

If there was one thing that could be said without doubt about Lucas Grant, it was that he was an eccentric billionaire, Sam thought. Eccentric in the sense that he made more efforts to look normal than to stand out, actually, it almost seemed he didn't want to be recognized at all.

While some people spend their lives struggling to be in the spotlight, craving to be seen, desiring to be famous, Lucas Grant seemed to fight notoriety with all his might. And that showed in his habits and ... furniture.

Samantha had never been to a penthouse before his, but she'd have expected it to be way colder, she'd expected a sleek and modern but awfully cold place where some business shark held his temple, instead she'd found the best home sweet home she'd ever seen. 1

She hadn't seen much of the living room, but she'd spotted photo frames all around, in the bedroom also, on his nightstand there was one picture that always caught her eye: four people, two adults and two children, stood outside a middle class house, grinning like Cheshire cats, all huddled together, so closely that even an outsider like Samantha could perceive the love that bonded them. +

It wasn't hard to recognize the same ocean blue eyes that often crowded her dreams, even while planted in a seemingly 16-years-old boy that held in his arms a blonde 4-years-old girl that evidently adored him, her small arms wrapped around his neck, her cheek pressed against his, while behind them, a man and a woman embraced them.

Every time she looked at that photo, Samantha couldn't help feeling a little envious. Lucas was part of a loving family, his childhood held no traumas, he bore no scars. He would be the perfect prototype of a very common person, weren't he so rich and so clever.

Well, he was the Golden Bachelor, after all, wasn't he? What did the article say? As gorgeous as a prince, as clever as a scientist, as kind-hearted as a saint. The perfect man.

The perfect man for any woman but her, Samantha reminded herself. If his life was truly so great, wouldn't it be selfish to destroy it with her troubles? It was best to keep their worlds apart.1

She slowly and a bit tiredly walked towards the kitchen, which was directly connected to the living room by a white door, which she pushed open just a notch, stopping behind the threshold, as she heard someone hum a familiar tune. She recognized the melody despite the wrong notes, and she couldn't help smiling, for it was the same song she'd sung to him that night in the elevator. 1

Sam peeked inside, curious, and noticed Lucas stuffing among stoves, gleefully minding pots and pans as if he were born to do just that. Judging by the amount of food lay onto the table, he'd been cooking since a few hours now. Sam wondered whether showing up would spoil his plans or not, if she wanted to pretend to be still sleeping she ought to go back now, but her feet didn't want to move, she was too taken by that cute sight.

Lucas Grant was truly odd for a billionaire. He cooked his own breakfast, took care of himself without any help, she wouldn't be surprised if he did laundry and tidied up the house on his own as well. He was so down to earth that he didn't even seem real. If Prince Charming truly existed, it might only be in the flesh and blood of Lucas Grant, Sam decided.3

It made her smile, that he would be in such a good mood, it was heartwarming, she didn't need to know the reason behind his smile, it was enough that it was there, and she could behold it, for how secretly. Maybe she should have gone back to the bedroom, pretend she was still asleep, in order not to ruin his perfect morning, but she really couldn't help remaining there, watching him. Samantha leaned against the white door, a bit tired, and observed, unseen and unheard.

Lucas was there, waltzing from one stove to the other as he hummed to that same song over and over again, he was quite out of tune, but it didn't really matter to her. He wore simple sweatpants and a t-shirt, but he still managed to look as dashing as he did in a fine suit. Samantha couldn't help wondering how long had he been there stuffing among stoves, and why ... did he seriously get up early on one of his rare free days only to cook her breakfast?

When a phone rang, her heart skipped a couple of beats, because the ringtone seemed close to her nook, but fortunately, Lucas ignored it, too busy minding the stoves. The aroma was truly delicious, enough for her stomach to start growling already, loudly enough to be heard, but once again, Lucas seemed lost in a whole different world.

The phone rang a couple of times more, until whoever gave up ... and started calling his private number, so that Sam this time did let out a small chuckle while she watched Lucas curse, trying to balance the pan while fishing his pocket for the phone. Finally, he succeeded.

"What?!" He barked, surprising her. Obviously, she couldn't hear what the other person was saying, but judging by his deep frown, it was nothing good.

"What did I say?!" His voice raised, quite authoritative. Samantha did know that, Lucas Grant might be the gentlest human being on Earth, but as an employer, he could be quite harsh sometimes.2

"I don't care, Amanda!" He barked, and Sam flinched, confused and marveled. "Ugh,please,they're gonna wait as long as I want them to." Lucas was saying. "No, there's no need for me to be there. No ... oh, for fuck's sakes, can't I take a day off without you people fussing so much?! There's no need for me to be omnipresent, just email me the details once the meeting is over."

Pause. Samantha frowned, confused. He'd taken the day off purposely to take care of her, hadn't he? But why? Also, how could he?1

"I left Drew in charge." Lucas stated on the phone, as if answering Samantha's unspoken question. "I trust him with my life, Amanda, how couldn't I trust him with my business?" He went on. "No. I said no, you report to him today. Yes, yes, that's an order, Ms. Pratt."

Sam leaned in, curious, when he left the stoves to rake a hand through his hair, sighing, then groaning.

"I'll be as bossy as I want, because I am your boss." He rolled his eyes, evidently annoyed. "No, I'm not sick. No, I just want the weekend to myself, is that wrong? Besides, why do I need to justify to my personal assistant?" He cracked a small smile. "Amanda ..." He called, switching from bossy to endearing in the blink of an eye, causing Samantha's heart to clench. Maybe, in the end, Amanda had succeeded in catching her prey.1

It was right, wasn't it? Samantha told herself. He had every right to get a real life, between them it was impossible, so why should he stick to her? Amanda was beautiful, sexy, and head over heels for him, why should he waste his time with a waste of life like she was? Sam closed her eyes, her legs wobbling.

A waste of life. That same phrase came back to torment her every single time she dared think she was worth something. Every single time she felt the right to a self esteem, that phrase broke every positive thought. 1

A waste of life. Her mind chanted as she leaned back against the wall, faintly hearing Lucas talk on the phone. You've ruined your parents, why do you want to inflict the same unjust punishment on him? Her inner voice spat. Don't you think he deserves better than you? What could you possibly give him?2

Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply as her mind sailed, inevitably, to her darkest moments. Do us a favor, kill yourself, Samantha. That gruff voice was saying. You're only a waste of life, Samantha. Just jump off Ponte Vecchio and get it over with. Spare us your ridiculous existence. 2

She bit her lips, trying not cry, while so clearly seeing that child there, standing, silently and mildly taking in those words. You're only a waste of life, Samantha. The same mantra kept spinning in her mind, making her dizzy, until she crawled to her feet, her legs unable to sustain her anymore.

She wrapped a hand over her mouth, in order to silence every possible sound, while tears already streamed her cheeks. It took so little to be thrown back into the abyss, she'd worked so hard to get past those thoughts, but those words were hammered in her mind, they'd rooted down in the deepest meanders of her soul, and they kept on poisoning her life.1

It was his parting gift, wasn't it? She could still see that smirk plastered on his face as the cops took him away. Her dad no idea, but she kept seeing that same smirk every night, in her worst nightmares.1

Samantha forced herself to resist, to hold back as many tears as possible, to retain every single sound, while her heart beat furiously. In the kitchen, Lucas talked on the phone, unaware of the nth breakdown she was having.

It was the proof, wasn't it? She was too weak, too fragile, too complicated for him. She would only ruin his life. There were demons deep within her, against which Lucas could not fight, she was weighed down by a haunting past that would never let her go, how could she be so selfish as to swing such impending catastrophe over his head? How could she even dare think she was entitled to a normal life? She wasn't. 1

She deserved nothing, nothing that resembled any kind of joy. She was meant to just stalk this earth, without a destination, like a lost soul in search of peace, while he ... Lucas was meant to greatness only, he was, truly, a rising star, how could she be so selfish as to weigh him down like that?5

Samantha brought a hand to her chest, fragile and weak, her temples pulsing, her breaths uneven as she tried to hold back every emotion ... inevitably failing.

Ever since he'd barged into her life, Lucas Grant had undermined her stability, ever since he'd started causing her those obnoxious 'feelings', the unstable balance of her careful life had been threatened, and now there she was, a mess of emotions ready to erupt at the most unexpected moment.

That was what feelings did to her, they weakened her, made her fragile, held the door open for her demons to come waltzing in and swallow her whole. Not feeling anything was the sole solution she'd found when it came to mental peace, and now that too was failing. 1

It only took one wrong word, one misinterpreted action, and the demons raised, ravenous, ready to chew her up. The question was, was she able to drive back such attack?