Daredevil's Mistress autor Charlene Namdhari
Daredevil's Mistress
Opis
He's made of Ice... She'll make him Burn Twenty-four-year-old Samantha Harman longs to escape her boring life and overbearing father in South Africa. She gains temporary freedom when she visits a friend’s ranch in Arizona. Her father's price for letting her go? Return to an arranged marriage. But an unexpected attraction to an attractive cowboy is hard to fight and soon she's with the devil. Cody Bentley, a hardworking no-nonsense rancher, has been hurt before. To him, women are wanton troublemakers out for gold. Then his sister’s feisty friend comes for a visit and ensnares him in a white-hot passion that threatens to melt the icy wall around his heart. Will Samantha dare to defy her father’s demands and convince Cody to take a chance on love?
Rozdział 1
Feb 9, 2022
“She lives alone?” His brow furrowed deeply. “Your visit then is simply out of the question.”
Here we go again. Samantha Harman rolled her eyes. She was a prisoner in her father’s home, not allowed to go out, and heaven forbid she ask to meet a girlfriend alone. A mere wish to join her friend, Kajal at the Northgate Mall ice rink last week, ended in a similar heated argument. Unmarried girls without a chaperone were taboo. Her cousins’ stories became the unceremonious joke at every family function.
“Why not?” Samantha said, testing her father’s patience with the simple request. Deborah Bentley, her college roommate, spent hours regaling her with stories of ranch hands, horses, and barbecues which added a little excitement to the prestigious but boring all girls’ college. Ten months ago, they said their goodbyes. Deborah’s letter requesting Samantha to visit her in Arizona, USA arrived as a total surprise.
“Diane, tell your daughter I won’t tolerate this insolence.” Her father darted her mother a livid glare, rose and ambled to a large bay window. With his hands cupped stiffly behind his back, he stared out.
“Samantha, I think—”
“I’m here, Papa. Why don’t you speak to me?” Samantha straightened and interrupted her mother. Her father’s tyrannical behavior suffocated her relentlessly.
He swung around, his face red with rage made Samantha shrink back. “Young lady, I will not tolerate my daughter speaking to me in this manner.”
“Why does it always have to be this way?”
“As long as you live under my roof, you will do as I say, do you understand?”
Samantha recognized the enmity in his voice. Her father ruled their house like he did his business. With an iron fist and despised being challenged.
“Shall I move out then? I’m sure it will make you happy.” She didn’t think, just spoke her mind. Not allowing his imperious stance and action deter her without effort.
“Stop this insolence at once,” he shouted. Capable of calamitous anger, her father was never this harsh. Right now, he appeared flustered by the uncharacteristic intensity of his tone and swiveled away to stare out the window once more.
Samantha glanced at her mother, elegantly dressed in satin silk, her lustrous red hair pinned neatly in a knot at the back of head, and her green gaze fixed intently on her husband. She sometimes wondered how her parents endured a twenty-six year marriage. They were so different, both in character and behavior; her father cold and ruthless, her mother sweet and charming. Maybe they made up for each other’s weaknesses.
Her mother stood and walked across to her husband. She placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing. “Please, Deven, talk to Samantha.”
“Do we know this girl? What’s her name?” Her father stared at her mother.
“Deborah visited during the holidays last year.
Seems like a wonderful girl, very polite and friendly. It may be good for Samantha to go—”
Her father’s suppressive behavior amazed her as Samantha caught sight of the contemptuous glare he leveled on her mother which froze her words. The man seriously believed in the age old tradition where men of the house made all the decisions whether right or wrong, while his wife remained at his side dubiously stoned with placating indifference. The mannerism a true reflection he didn’t take kindly being told what others thought he should or shouldn’t do.
Samantha conceded her life was plenty different from her friends. Her parents survived the boundaries of a mixed race betrothal only because her father came from Indian royalty and her mother from an openly diverse British family. Even though they lived in South Africa, her father ensured a way of life he deemed an equivalent of his royal heritage and expected his family to follow suit. He demanded respect.
“Papa, please. Deborah lives with her older brother.” Samantha subtly left out the fact Deborah lived with not one but three single brothers. He’d probably throw a hissy fit if he found out.
“What business is he in, Sam?” he asked a tad calmer.
Sam, a pet name which sometimes gave her the distinct impression her father desired a son as his first born, yet they never wanted any more children. “They own a ranch.”
“So they’re mere ranch hands.” He cast Samantha an arrogant glower. “These people are beneath your status. You were raised like a princess. What in heaven’s name will you find of interest on a ranch?”
The pompous tone irked her, and she clenched her fists. “Oh, c’mon, Papa, I’m twenty-four years old. Stop treating me like a child. Let me make my own decisions for once,” Samantha retaliated with irritation. “I’m not asking for a marriage proposal. I want a vacation. On my own. Just this once.”
“I’m well aware it’s not a marriage proposal.” He walked back and sat down on the closest sofa. “The world out there, Sam, is harsh and I only want what’s best for you.” His interrogative gray eyes locked with hers. Tall man, strong built and stern, his countenance more like a gentleman from the sixteenth century with his curled moustache and long sideburns. He rarely dressed in anything else except three-piece suits and polished shoes.
Samantha dropped into the seat and grasped his hand in a gentle squeeze. “I know, but…but you won’t live forever, you know. When do I experience the realities of life?” she pleaded softly, her anger momentarily forgotten.
“You’ve never been out of South Africa on your own.”
“Whose fault is that?” Samantha responded hotly then changed tactics when his brow lifted. One of his many warning signs to tread lightly. She huffed and continued calmly. “I finished my studies, which you allowed then refused to let me work, not even in your office. Apart from dinner parties with old, dreary people, I sit at home bored,” she said. “I wanna see and do something else, and this is the perfect opportunity.” She watched her father, and her shoulders sagged in misery. He looked away and stared into the fire.
Despite their profound traditions, none of the functions she attended held the appeal of the Indian flair of bright colors and music. It usually consisted of aunts and uncles who met once a week for family dinners. The idea of waking each morning for the next month to a totally different discovery other than the usual routine sounded like a new adventure and she wanted excitement.
Samantha waited patiently as her father turned his head and studied her for a long intense moment. “I have one condition, then.”
“What is it?” She caught her mother’s hopeful gaze. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind apprehension grew.
“Rajesh has asked for your hand in marriage, and on your return, you will accept his proposal?”
Samantha’s jaw dropped in stunned silence. Seriously? Ok, she expected an arranged marriage but not to Rajesh Rao. Her apparent suitor appeared wealthy but dull and pretentious. With his Armani suits and brushed back hair, she’d never seen him so much as tap a toe to a beat. “What?” she said at last. “But…but Papa—”
“No buts, Sam. My condition is simple, if you still want to go on this holiday.”
“Can’t we discuss it on my return?”
Slowly, he shook his head. “No. Rajesh is exactly what I want in a son-in-law. It’s a good business deal for both families from a personal and professional perspective.”
Typical! Anything to clinch a business deal. Sell your daughter to the highest bidder too.
She wanted to fall in love, not be forced into it. In her mind, love was supposed to come naturally. It would be easy to accept any man as her husband in accordance with her father’s dictates. Her desire, however, comprised of a man able to express his love in return. Not a parody of her father, which Rajesh emulated quite well. Love meant going weak at the knees, and Rajesh, purely put, held no excitement. No oomph.
Samantha wanted to jump into the deep end of a pool with her true love and swim together to safety. Not sink because of their inability to trust each other. “What about what I want?”
“End of discussion, Sam. My condition stands, if you want to go.” His tone remained matter of fact.
Exasperation set in as her gaze met her mother’s solemn expression of subservient obedience. Over time, Samantha learned when it came to her father, her mother never argued. Truth be told, her mother would rather suffocate to death than indulge in a battle of wits with her husband.
Once he made up his mind, no one could argue any further with her father. “I agree.” Samantha exhaled on a slow breath. God, what am I getting myself into? She wanted freedom, right? Sheltered, it became essential for her to experience life. Dancing, dating, and perhaps live on the wild side for a while. What it meant, she wasn’t sure right now. Maybe it started with a simple decision, like a serious wardrobe change for instance. And this was her ticket, so to speak.
Daredevil's Mistress
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