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She examined my face closely before she spoke. “Chérie, growing up in a palace does not protect you from misery.”
“What do you mean?” I mumbled.
“His mother is the kind of woman that should never have had children. I’m certain you’ve noticed. They were headed straight for a divorce before she got pregnant. Anyway, she used the boy against the father. It got quite ugly, saw that myself.”
“How?” My heart was suddenly pounding in my ears and my throat struggled to squeeze out the word.
“Imagine a little boy never getting an ounce of love or affection from his mother, unless she’s putting on an act in front of his father. The boy knew––he was always clever and sensitive––he knew,” she finished in a whisper. Her words hung in the air while her attention returned to the batter she was mixing.
I thought of the love and affection I grew up with. Never in doubt. Always available. I had been smothered in love. What could it have been like for a child to never have felt wanted, loved? Emotions I was not comfortable with began leaking out of my heart. I tried to stop them but it was a finger on a gunshot wound––it did more harm than good. I was already in serious danger of loving this man. And that, I could not allow.
* * *
Around noon, I drove the golf cart down to the lake. A long canoe bobbed on the water. It was filled with men doing too much talking and not enough fishing––probably already having scared most of the fish to the other side of the lake. The other was on shore. Sebastian had been waiting for me. My heart skipped a beat as I watched him approach with a playful smile on his handsome face. I put the golf cart in park and began unloading the baskets of food and beverages. I wouldn’t meet his eyes. They had too much power over me.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked in a soft voice.
“Nothing’s wrong. Excuse me, I need to unload this cart.”
“Let me help,” he murmured, taking a basket from me. Together we walked towards a giant oak where chairs and a picnic table sat in the shade. “Why won’t you look at me?”
I looked up, my expression blank. “I’m busy. I have work to do.” I thought I caught a flash of pain in his eyes before I turned away, though maybe I was imagining it.
Working quickly, I arranged the food and the container of iced beverages while an awkward moment of silence stretched out between us. He stood aside, studying me as if I were one of his balance sheets, a discrepancy that needed to be solved. I did my best to ignore him. As I finished setting the table, he reached out and almost touched me before he pulled his hand back and glanced over his shoulder. We both turned to watch the men pushing the canoe onto dry land.
“Come to my room tonight.” His voice was sweet, supplicating. It made me ache for him.
“No, I can’t,” I whispered.
I heard him sigh. The heavy air surrounding him was back. I could feel it. After a beat, he walked away. I stared at his retreating back and fought a strong impulse to run after him and throw myself into his arms. It was better this way. I had to keep myself as emotionally detached as possible.
Chapter Sixteen
A postcard sunset turned the sky a kaleidoscope of colors. Cerulean to radiant violet. Magenta to cadmium orange. I leaned against the stone column of the doorway and stared absently at the horizon. I couldn’t even enjoy the stunning show Mother Nature was putting on, too lost in thought. What Mrs. Arnaud had revealed had thrown me off balance. Now I wish I hadn’t asked. We were one day into it and it had already gotten complicated. I hated complicated, complicated was messy.
A black Mercedes sedan approached and pulled up to the front entrance. The passenger handed the driver some bills, opened the door, and unfolded his large body out of the back of the car. When he stood, he was not quite as tall as Sebastian and more heavily muscled. There was a bit of dangerous air surrounding him; you could sense it even at a distance. A quick appraisal revealed that he was handsome: a straight nose, a firm jaw, black hair cut efficiently short. Both arms had sleeves of tattoos that started at his wrists and disappeared under the short sleeves of his grey t-shirt. He definitely didn’t look like the rest of the bank’s clients.
Holding his garment bag over his shoulder, he jogged up the stairs rather gracefully for a man his size. He moved slowly, smoothly, and something told me that there was a powerful force behind those languid movements. That’s when he glanced up with eyes of the most unusual color; a pale smoky grey with rims a silvery blue-green. The color of a blue spruce pine. I couldn’t stop staring. Against his suntanned skin, the effect was shocking. And he was obviously accustomed to women having this reaction to him because his sensual lips shaped themselves into a knowing smile, two dimples on his lean cheeks further punctuating the matter.
