Samantha stood just outside the main entrance of the mansion, tapping her foot impatiently against the cobblestone driveway. She glanced down the long, winding road for what felt like the hundredth time, squinting against the high afternoon sun.
It was cold, her nerves were fraying, and the last thing she wanted to do was play hostess to a ballerina she'd never met.
Richard had sent one of his personal drivers to fetch Daphne Stone from the airport, which irked Samantha more than she cared to admit. She still didn't understand why this girl was getting such special treatment, especially from a man who had never even laid eyes on her in the past.
"What could she possibly have done to warrant such attention?" The woman muttered under her breath, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. Her mind whirled with irritation. "What if she goes back to Paris and starts yapping about her stay here? The next thing we know, this house will be flooded with orphaned ballerinas!"
