Another Year and more stories to come! I love writing for you and seeing your reviews, you are the ones keeping Samcedes alive! That being said I hope you enjoy what i have instore for you!
Mercedes settled into the plush loveseat in the sitting room, smoothing her skirt as she listened to the distant murmur of voices coming from the study. JJ and Julian were deep in conversation, their tones measured and businesslike.
Across from her, Rebecca and Nyla were curled up on a matching sofa, their postures relaxed but their expressions sharp with curiosity.
Rebecca tilted her head, studying Mercedes with a soft smile. "You look... different these days."
Mercedes arched an eyebrow. "Different, how?"
"Happy," Rebecca replied, a note of teasing in her voice.
Nyla leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she joined in. "Yeah, girl. You're practically glowing. Got anything to do with a certain green-eyed charmer?"
Mercedes rolled her eyes, a small laugh escaping her lips. "I'm just trying to make the most out of this situation. No sense in making things miserable for either of us."
Nyla smirked, her tone turning sly. "Making the most of it, huh? So... has Sam popped that cherry yet?"
Mercedes nearly dropped her teacup, her eyes widening in shock. "Nyla!" she gasped, turning to Rebecca. "Are you seriously going to let her say stuff like that?"
Rebecca burst into laughter, her hand coming up to stifle the sound as she shook her head. "I mean, inquiring minds do want to know."
Mercedes glared at both of them, her cheeks warming despite herself. "For the record, I'm waiting until we're married. End of discussion."
Nyla leaned back, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. "Fine, fine. But I'm just saying, girl. That man? You've got more self-control than I ever would."
Rebecca grinned, nudging Nyla with her elbow. "Leave her alone. Let her have her moment of peace before you start corrupting her."
Mercedes huffed, shaking her head even as a smile tugged at her lips. "This conversation is officially over. Talk about something else."
Rebecca and Nyla exchanged amused glances before bursting into laughter again, their camaraderie filling the room with warmth.
Rebecca leaned forward, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "Alright, fine, we'll drop that for now. But seriously, Mercedes, he seems like a good guy. I know this isn't exactly how you imagined things going, but you seem... content."
Mercedes sighed, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "Sam's... surprising. I won't lie; I didn't expect him to be as thoughtful as he's been. He's made this a lot easier than it could've been. I mean, last night, he planned this whole dinner on the roof, with lights, music, the works."
Nyla's eyebrows shot up. "Hold on. This man planned a rooftop dinner for you? With all the romantic fixings?"
"Yep," Mercedes said, her lips twitching into a smile she tried to hide. "Well, mostly. His mom and brother helped, but still."
Rebecca placed a hand over her heart dramatically. "Stop. I might actually swoon. And you're just sitting here telling us you're content?"
Mercedes laughed. "What do you want me to say? It was sweet. I appreciated it. But I'm not about to start writing sonnets about the man."
Nyla pointed a finger at her, grinning. "Uh-huh, sure. Keep playing coy. Meanwhile, Sam is over here setting the bar so high it's in orbit."
Mercedes shook her head, still smiling. "Y'all are too much."
Rebecca rested her chin on her hand, a softer expression overtaking her playful demeanor. "Honestly, though, I'm glad you're giving this a real shot. Sam seems invested. And from what I can see, he's good for you, even if this whole arrangement started out... unconventional."
Mercedes sobered a bit, her gaze dropping to the teacup in her hands. "I'm trying. I really am. And he's trying, too, which makes it easier. But I am terrified to get so invested and just be left when the year is over. He's already supposed to get my virginity. I can't give him everything knowing where we are going to end up."
Nyla nodded, leaning back against the couch. "Fair enough. But just know, if you ever need to vent, or scream, or even bail, you've got us."
"Always," Rebecca added, reaching over to squeeze Mercedes' hand.
Mercedes smiled at both of them, gratitude shining in her eyes. "Thanks, guys. That means a lot."
The sound of approaching footsteps broke their conversation, and a moment later, JJ appeared in the doorway, followed by Julian.
JJ grinned, his gaze sweeping over the trio. "What's all this? A secret meeting we weren't invited to?"
Rebecca stood, smoothing her skirt with a wink. "Just girl talk. Nothing you'd be interested in."
Julian chuckled, his hands in his pockets as he looked at Mercedes. "Well, as long as it wasn't about business. That's what we're here for, right?"
Mercedes stood as well, walking over to him. "Right. I hope everything's good on your end?"
Julian gave her a small, approving nod. "For now. Let's keep it that way."
Rebecca leaned close to Mercedes as they headed out of the room, whispering, "We'll finish this conversation later."
Mercedes just shook her head, laughing softly.
While everyone went to wash their hands for dinner, Mercedes ad adjusted her place setting, when she felt a warm, familiar presence behind her. Before she could turn, Sam's voice, low and teasing, brushed her ear.
"Have mercy," he murmured, his gaze raking over her purple wrap skirt and white halter crop top. The sweater draped over her shoulders didn't do much to hide her curves, and he made no attempt to disguise the way his eyes lingered.
Mercedes turned, already blushing. "Sam—" she began, but he cut her off by pulling her into his arms.
"I haven't seen you since last night," he said, smirking. "You look amazing."
She glanced around nervously, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Sam, not here. My dad—"
But he didn't care, there was something about her that made it impossible for him to keep his hands off of her. She was Gorgeous, smart and made him want her all the time.
His lips captured hers in a passionate and possessive kiss, leaving no doubt about his feelings. Mercedes felt her knees weaken as she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck.
A loud throat clearing broke through the haze.
Mercedes pulled back abruptly, her face flaming as she turned to see her father, Julian, standing in the doorway. His expression was a mix of amusement and disapproval.
"Well," Julian drawled, crossing his arms. "Glad to see my daughter's... soon to be husband missed her."
Mercedes ducked her head, muttering, "Dad, please."
Sam, completely unbothered, grinned and extended a hand. "Julian. Always a pleasure."
Julian shook his hand firmly, his lips twitching in an effort to suppress a smile. "Just keep it PG-13 in my house, Evans."
"Yes, sir," Sam said, his tone light but respectful.
Mercedes shot Sam a glare as they moved toward the table. "You're impossible," she hissed under her breath.
He leaned in again, his grin widening. "And you love it."
Mercedes hid her blush, she had no idea what was going on with her father or Sam. Her dad seemed a bit more at ease, he seemed less harsh.
And Sam was saying all the right thngs, and doing everything to make her feel like she was the only woman for him.
Dinner was served shortly after, and the atmosphere shifted to one of laughter and warmth. The table brimmed with hearty dishes—succulent lamb roasted to perfection, creamy mashed potatoes, roasted vegetables, and a rich gravy that filled the room with an irresistible aroma. Warm rolls sat in a basket at the center, with butter that instantly melted.
Rebecca kicked off the storytelling by teasing Nyla about her infamous fashion disasters in college. "Do you remember that time you wore that neon green feather boa to your biology presentation? You looked like a parrot!"
"Excuse you, mom!" Nyla shot back, grabbing a piece of bread and hurling it in Rebecca's direction, though she was laughing too. "That was avant-garde! The professor said it was 'memorable.'"
"Memorable for the wrong reasons!" Rebecca countered, and the entire table erupted into laughter.
JJ and Julian got into their own debate, with JJ shaking his head adamantly. "I'm telling you, Mom's lamb recipe is undefeated. The rosemary marinade? It's perfection."
Julian smirked, lifting his wine glass. "I respect your mother's recipe, but grilling the lamb over hickory wood gives it an unbeatable smoky flavor. You can't argue with science."
"Science?!" JJ exclaimed. "It's cooking, Dad, not a chemistry experiment!"
Sam fit right into the mix, sharing stories about his family that had everyone in stitches. "So, when my youngest sister, Stacey, was about six, she decided to host a tea party. She invited all of us—me, my parents, Stef, Stevie and our dog—but for some reason, she thought the goat from the neighbor's farm should be the guest of honor."
"A goat?" Rebecca asked, laughing as she reached for her wine glass.
"Yup. The neighbor never sadi no to their kids hence the goat. And not just any goat. This one had a tendency to, uh, eat anything in sight." Sam chuckled, shaking his head. "Stacey had us set up this elaborate tea party in the backyard. We're talking miniature teacups, lace doilies, cucumber sandwiches—the whole deal. But the goat had other plans. He devoured the sandwiches, tipped over the teapot, and then tried to eat Stevie's hat!"
The table burst into laughter, and Mercedes found herself laughing so hard that tears streamed down her cheeks. She dabbed at her eyes with a napkin, glancing at Sam with a mix of amusement and disbelief. "Please tell me there are pictures of this."
"Oh, there are pictures," Sam assured her, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin. "But Stacey has them under lock and key. She's threatened to disown me if I ever share them."
Sam's hand found Mercedes under the table as the evening progressed. His thumb brushed gentle, rhythmic circles against her knuckles, sending a wave of warmth through her. She glanced at him, her heart fluttering at the soft smile he gave her. It wasn't just a smile but a silent acknowledgment that he was exactly where he wanted to be—right there with her.
The conversation flowed effortlessly, filled with jokes, stories, and the clinking of glasses. For the first time in what felt like forever, Mercedes felt completely at ease, surrounded by love, laughter, and a man who seemed to see right into her heart.
Mercedes wandered through the hallway, searching for Sam. Dinner had gone off without a hitch, and she couldn't deny how seamlessly he fit in with her family. Now, it was late, and they had promised to leave soon, but Sam had disappeared.
Muffled voices caught her attention as she passed her father's office. She paused, recognizing Sam's voice. Curiosity tugged at her, and she stepped closer, the door left slightly ajar.
"… she's easy to care about," Sam said, his voice carrying a mix of earnestness and resolve.
"That remains to be seen, now about the," Julien responded sharply, his tone cold and calculating. Mercedes frowned, leaning closer.
"I've run into a problem securing the land for the new studio building," Sam continued. "The secondary land we chose has fallen through, and since the land we wanted was already promised to Mercedes for her mother's community center, we are back to square one."
"Yeah," Julien replied with a chuckle, as if amused by the inconvenience. "I've decided to take the land back. It's the perfect location for the studio, and Mercedes is just going to have to understand."
"She won't like it," Sam said firmly, a protective edge in his voice.
Julien let out a dismissive scoff. "That's where you come in, son. Convince her to give it up."
Mercedes' breath caught in her throat.
"I don't think it's that simple," Sam replied, clearly uncomfortable. "Mercedes is her own woman. She's dedicated to that place—it's more than just a project to her."
"That's exactly the problem," Julien snapped, his voice growing colder. "I chose you for my daughter because I thought you had the backbone to rule with an iron fist. You need to remind her who's in charge. Take your balls back and lay down the law. Let her know that the land is no longer hers, and if she locks you out of the bedroom over it, well…"
Mercedes pressed a hand to her mouth, horrified.
"There are plenty of women out there, Sam. You're a man of status, wealth, and power. You don't have to rely on one woman to meet your needs. Especially a woman like my daughter—she's defiant, stubborn. I doubt she can even please a man like you properly."
Sam's jaw dropped audibly, and when he finally spoke, his voice was tight with barely-contained fury. "That's not—I can't—"
Julien interrupted, his tone dangerously smooth. "If you're going to be her husband, you need to learn how to snub that defiant streak in her. Her mother was the same way; I'll admit, I had my work cut out for me. But in the end, I found ways to get her on my side."
"And exactly how do you propose I do this?"
Julien sat back in his chair. "Well, I usually did one of two things. I either seduced her, or I drugged her to sign things. I loved my wife, but this buisness is more important that some silly wants."
Mercedes couldn't listen anymore. Her heart pounded, and tears welled in her eyes as she turned and slipped away as quietly as she could.
Her father's words replayed in her mind, each one a sharp blade carving into her trust. But it wasn't just Julien's betrayal that stung—her father always showed her who he was. It was Sam's silence. He hadn't outright rejected the plan or defended her the way she thought he would.
By the time Mercedes reached the guest room where their coats were, her hands trembled, and her chest felt tight with a mix of anger, disbelief, and profound hurt. The words she had overheard rang in her ears, each one more cutting than the last. Her father's callous manipulation, the dismissal of her dreams, and—worst of all—Sam's hesitant response felt like a betrayal she couldn't ignore.
She took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing back the tears threatening to spill. She couldn't fall apart now. Not here, not yet.
The sound of footsteps made her stiffen. When Sam entered the room, his expression softened the moment he saw her.
"There you are," he said with a small, relieved smile. "I was looking for you—"
"Don't," she interrupted, her voice sharp but trembling. She grabbed her coat with a jerky motion, draping it over her arm. "Let's go. Now."
Sam's brow furrowed in confusion. "Mercedes, what's wrong?" He stepped closer, his hand reaching for hers.
She took a half-step back, clutching the coat tighter to her chest. "Nothing," she said, her tone tight but composed. "I'm just ready to leave. It's late, and I have a lot to do tomorrow."
"You're upset," he pressed gently, his voice low and concerned.
"I'm fine," she lied, plastering on a tight smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Let's just go."
Sam studied her, his green eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to figure out what had shifted. "Mercedes—"
"Please, Sam," she cut him off, her voice soft but resolute. "I'm tired. Let's talk later."
His hesitation was palpable, but after a moment, he nodded, stepping aside to let her pass. "Okay," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "Let's go."
The car ride home was thick with silence, the tension palpable. Mercedes stared out the window, her hands clenched in her lap. She couldn't bring herself to look at him, not when her mind was racing with questions.
Had Sam known about this all along? Was he complicit in her father's plan, or was he just caught in the middle? And why hadn't he pushed back harder against Julien's cruel demands?
Sam stole glances at her from the driver's seat, his concern evident. "Did something happen during dinner?" he finally asked, his voice breaking the silence.
Mercedes glanced at him, her face calm but her eyes unreadable. "Dinner was fine," she said simply, her voice cool. "I just realized how much work I have waiting for me tomorrow."
He frowned, clearly unconvinced but unwilling to press further. "If something's bothering you, you can tell me," he offered, his tone gentle.
Her heart twisted at his words, but she forced herself to remain composed. "I know," she replied with a small, noncommittal smile.
The rest of the drive passed in silence. When they reached the apartment, Sam parked the car and turned to her, but before he could say anything, Mercedes was already out, heading for the elevator.
"Mercedes, wait," he called, hurrying to catch up.
She paused just as the elevator doors opened, stepping inside and holding the door for him. "I'm fine, Sam," she said, her voice softer now but still distant. "Let's just get some rest."
He stepped in beside her, his gaze searching her face for any hint of what was wrong. "You don't seem fine," he said quietly.
She turned to him then, her expression unreadable. "Not everything needs to be a discussion," she said, her tone almost apologetic. "I just… need some space tonight."
The elevator ride felt endless, the silence stretching between them like a chasm. When they reached their floor, Mercedes walked to their apartment with measured steps, her composure unwavering even as her heart ached.
Once inside, she turned to him. "I'm going to bed," she said simply, avoiding his eyes.
"Mercedes," he began, his voice laced with worry.
"I'm fine," she interrupted again, her voice firmer this time. "Goodnight, Sam."
Without waiting for his response, she disappeared into the bedroom, closing the door softly behind her.
As she leaned against the door, her mask finally cracked, tears streaming silently down her cheeks. Her mind raced with doubts, fears, and the echo of Julien's cruel words.
But more than anything, she wondered, when the time came, would Sam truly stand by her—or would he let her father win?