With a Pull of a Trigger

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Samantha looked down at her cup of hot chocolate, at the steam rising up to meet her alabastrine face. Reini put down her cup of coffee back on its saucer—very fine Chinaware with royal blue and sapphire blue accents—and looked at Samantha, at the untouched cup of hot chocolate.

Chocolate—the very color of Samuel’s eyes, the symbol of the man she had grown to love.

Reini shook her head minutely and directed her gaze to the Eiffel Tower. It was truly a sight, and maybe, just maybe, if she were actually lucky, she might be able to go with Samuel some time.

“I didn’t trust you.”

Samantha’s voice was quiet, like she had just admitted a secret out loud, and maybe she did.

Reini looked at Samantha. She nodded. “I know.”

Long fingers reached for the cup of hot chocolate, and Samantha sipped her drink quietly, slowly. A minute passed, and Reini heard the quiet clink of the porcelain cup being set upon the porcelain saucer.

“I live here, you know,” said Samantha, looking up at the Parisian sky with its fluffy white clouds and bright sunlight. “Paris breeds artists and romanticists alike. After producing my first line of paintings, Paris called to me. I fit here.”

Reini nodded despite not being asked a question. She maintained her silence, looking at Samantha.

“There was quite a fight with my family. After Spencer’s death, my parents didn’t either of us gone too long from their sight.” A low chuckle makes its way out of her mouth. “They never did quite move on from my brother’s death.”

Reini’s eyebrow rose, one perfect arc on milky-white skin. “Have you? Moved on from his death, I mean?”

Samantha sighed. She looked down, as if she were afraid to answer Reini’s question with eye contact. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think I have, sometimes I think I haven’t.”

Reini nodded once more.

Samantha sighed, looking at Reini. “Paris is for the dreamers. There wasn’t space here for people who depended on logic, on the balance between right and wrong. My father, my mother—brilliant lawyers, they say, and yes they are. Brilliant lawyers, I mean. My brother, the well-brought up son, the son who followed in our parents footsteps…he’s well on his way to being quite well known for his skills as a lawyer too.”

Reini looked at Samantha and saw a kind of desperation in her eyes, like she was silently begging her to listen to her. Reini had never been a good advice-giver, nor did she have a future down the road of Psychology—Eena had always carried that reputation—and Reini had no plans to start having one.

She had always been a good listener—years of being both a lawyer and an agent made sure of that—and so, she just let Samantha speak.

“I couldn’t begin to tell you how happy I was when I finally learned that my brother was getting married. Samuel has a tendency of working himself to death and upon learning that there would be a woman who would be able to take care of him, I felt happy. I felt like everything was finally falling into place,” Samantha admitted.

Reini sipped her coffee and tasted the wonderful blend, the robust flavor of the beans.

“The wedding was scheduled. I was to become the maid of honor. I didn’t care that I didn’t know Clarissa; in my eyes, she was a good person for being with my brother,” said Samantha, her voice wistful, her aura nostalgic. “Imagine my surprise when the wedding got called off by my brother, and later, my shock when two years later, I meet my family at a party and find my brother depressed.”