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I sucked in a breath, loathing myself for breaking my promise to Dad, yet again.
Just as I’d started to send her on her way, Eileen surprised me by blurting out, “I brought mooncakes.”
I crossed my arms. “What?”
Not only was this not the time for them, it was literally not the time for them according to the calendar.
A small smile tipped up her lips. The first human thing she’d done since stepping into my domain.
Rich, coming from me—I know.
She rested a hand on the island, surveying the closet, as though the idea of getting caught sharing the space with me was as disagreeable to her as it was to me.
“Mooncakes. From Chinatown. The real deal. Made by this ancient lady, who felt bad for running out of them last Moon Festival and cooked up a special batch for me. They’re triple yolked.”
Sounds like a recipe for clogged arteries.
It occurred to me that she’d abandoned the stilted formal speech, though I didn’t have a clue as to why.
“Grandma sent me all the way to this third-floor apartment inthe middle of the night to pick them up.” When she noticed she’d left a fingerprint on the glass counter, she wiped it with the Hermès scarf swaddled around her wrist. “She said they’d win you over. I… I’m not even sure I want to do that.” Her lower lip twitched as if she’d suppressed a wince. “Win you over, I mean. This has nothing to do with you. You’re overqualified, like I knew you would be. But I don’t like…” She paused.
“You don’t like what?”
Mingling? Being set up by your family? Humans?
“Men,” she finished in a whisper, peering down at her toes.
This explained a lot about her single status.
And, to be frank, her lack of interest in my dick.
A knot in my shoulder began to loosen. “You’re gay?”
I could work with this.
A marriage on paper.
No expectations of emotions, interaction,sex.
“No.” She tucked her lip into her mouth, deliberating her next words. “I don’t like women, either. I don’t feel any desire toward anyone.”
Oh.
Mom truly had found the female version of me.
Well, up until Farrow Ballantine barreled into my life. Now, I one hundred percentdidwant to touch someone.
In fact, I wanted to do a hell of a lot more than that.
Eileen’s gaze traveled up to my ceiling. Tears rimmed the lower ledge of her eyes. She blew out a raspberry, the sound almost jarring coming from her.
I blinked. “You don’t want to fuck me?”
“I wouldn’t even want to hug you if we ever got married. Which, by the way, I’ve only contemplated because I really don’t want to die alone. I want children. I want a family. I want to experience what other people enjoy.”
I stroked my chin.
This could work.
