The Beauty and the Brawler Read Online Free PDF Page B

possibly homicidal stalker,” she murmured, praying.
              “Sammie, that you?” her sister called out from the kitchen.
              Samara rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. “You really don’t like me, do you?”
              Nyssa stuck her head around the corner. “Good, you’re here.”
              “Yes,” she said slowly. “It’s my condo. The question is—why are you here?”
              Shrugging, her sibling replied, “Was in the neighborhood.”
              Samara stared.
              “No, seriously,” Nyssa continued. “I was literally up the block in a five-hour meeting with one of my clients who plays for the Giants. I flew in this morning. Something you’d know if you answered the phone every once in a while.” She wiped her hands with the small towel hanging over her shoulder. “I figured you’d still be on-air. It’s only noon.”
             
    Tossing her bag down, Samara slipped out of her jacket and sneakers before heading for the bathroom so she could wash her hands and face. “Yeah, called it an early day. Still kinda sick, yah know?”
              “My future minion is working you over, eh?”
              Samara had frozen in her tracks so many times today she might as well call a sculptor from the wax museum to come and fulfill her lifelong dream of being immortalized, candle style. “You’re shitting me, right?”
              “I shit you not, ma’am.”
              “Did all of the east coast figure it out before me?” she cried.
              Nyssa laughed. “After your come-to-Jesus moment the other day, it really wasn’t that hard to put two and two together, Sammie. Even if I was fuzzy around the edges.”
              With a small, defeated sigh, Samara marched towards the bathroom. “I might as well announce it on air tomorrow morning.”
              “Not unless you want Mommy here until the kid turns eighteen.”
              She leaned over the sink, suddenly feeling all kinds of nauseous again. “Damn. I have to tell Mom and Dad.”
              “Speaking of dads,” Nyssa drawled, leaning against the doorway. “You planning to tell Luc any time soon?”
              Samara’s head snapped up. “Who said it was... Shit, I might as well not even finish that goddamn sentence. Of course it was Luc.”
              Something between the sound of a squeal and a scream left her sister’s mouth before Nyssa began to bounce around, clapping her hands. Samara caught her by the shoulders, stopping her. “You c cannot say anything.”
              Nyssa’s eyes widened. “You do plan on telling him, don’t you?”
              She chewed her lip. “’Course I do.”
              “Good.” The other woman turned back toward the hallway.
              “Just not right now,” Samara finished.
              Nyssa halted. “Now what now ?”
              “This isn’t the kind of thing you tell someone over the phone.” Shifting from one foot to the other, she ran a hand down her face. “Needs to be done in person.”
              “So take the drive out tomorrow,” her sister suggested.
              Samara shook her head. “Can’t. I have to wait until this weekend, after my guest host slot on KD104 with Trip and Paz in Jersey. I’ll make the commute from there to Philly.”
              “And then you’ll tell him?”
              “ Then I’ll tell him.”
              Nyssa nodded and started walking again.
              “You can’t tell Sunny, either!” Samara called after her.
              “I’m not even speaking to that prick!”
              “Why not?”
              “Because he’s a prick! That’s why not! Stop questioning why I’m not speaking to the