Hard to Handle by Raven Scott Page A

so.”
    â€œDoing what?” asked Lucas, clearly just as unaware.
    â€œShe’s a writer, but no one knows it’s her,” Evan explained. “I didn’t even know until a couple of months ago. Mikayla can be pretty stubborn when she wants something, and she’s always wanted to make it as a journalist without her father’s influence. So she writes under another name.”
    Sam tried to stay calm and objective, but his heart was now beating like a drum. Somewhere deep in his gut, his instincts were on high alert and telling him something god-awful. He cleared his throat and worked his jaw before asking the question.
    â€œWhat name?”
    â€œKaylee Stone,” Evan replied completely unaware of the bomb that he had just dropped. “It’s a nickname she’s had since high school, and her mom’s maiden name.”
    Lucas and Evan were talking, but Sam couldn’t hear their words. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think. His head was filling up with every intricate detail of the last three days—the moment he saw her rush out of the building and falling from a turn in her ankle; the look of fear in those big, sparkling eyes; that stunning smile and the sound of her laughter at his silly, sarcastic comments; the smell of her skin; the sweet, tight feel of inching deep . . .
    â€œSam?” He looked at Evan, then Lucas, both of whom were staring at him strangely. “You okay, man? You look paler than usual,” Lucas teased with a chuckle.
    â€œYeah. Fine,” he replied vaguely. But nothing was fine. The reality of Evan’s words were the exact opposite of fine. It was the most impossible, inconceivable truth. Sam had slept with his client’s daughter, who also just happened to be engaged to his business partner. The wedding invitation was sitting on his desk at home, and Sam could clearly recall the printed words, though he had paid little attention to them before:

    Mr. George Clement and Mrs. Evelyn Stone-Clement invite you to celebrate the union of their daughter Mikayla to Evan DaCosta . . .

    â€œI met her,” Sam finally said.
    â€œWho? Mikayla?” asked Lucas.
    â€œYeah,” he confirmed in a cold voice. “Raymond and I did, on Monday, outside the Baltimore Journal building. She had hurt her ankle walking through the alley. She introduced herself as Kaylee so I had no clue who she really was.”
    â€œIs she okay?” Evan asked with obvious concern.
    Sam nodded, forcing the words out of his mouth. “She’s fine. It was just a light sprain. I gave her a ride home.”
    â€œI spoke to her on Tuesday, and she never mentioned it,” mused Evan.
    Sam closed his eyes, formulating the words that should be spoken next, to tell the rest of what had happened. But he couldn’t do it. Not right then, in front of Lucas. This was something he would need to reveal to Evan in private, man to man; then he would face the inevitable fallout. However unintentional it was, Sam had committed the biggest betrayal imaginable, and there was no way they would all walk away unscathed.
    â€œI have to head out,” Sam finally said, ignoring the raised eyebrows as he strode out of the room.
    He was on autopilot, quickly walking to his office to open his laptop. As fate would have it, there was now a new message in his email inbox with a file from Raymond. The result of their security audit. Sam didn’t bother to open it. He grabbed his car keys and left the building. Anger, disgust, and shame were clogging his throat, slowly choking him until he couldn’t breathe. How the fuck had he let this happen?
    It was so obvious now. The expensive apartment. Her incredible sophistication and graceful demeanor, like that of a society princess in an entry-level job. Kaylee worked for Holt. She had to be the one who had told her father about an editor taking her off a story. That she suspected interference from city hall. It