Page 84 of Bound To Be Mine

“Why you love it here. Take me somewhere special to you.” I realized how that sounded and quickly added, “I mean, I can’t see the appeal of living out here. It’s all earthquakes and smog and palm trees. Help me understand what you see in it.”

She looked thoughtful. “Okay. Yeah, I can do that.”

She drove us toward the coast. The traffic was predictably terrible, but she navigated it with the ease of someone who’d done this a thousand times. I rarely drove in Manhattan. Our traffic wasn’t any better, but I never had to actually navigate it. I had a driver, and if it was too bad, I walked. Everyone walked. It was different in LA. So many fucking cars.

“People really bought it,” I said, scrolling through my phone.

“They did.” She glanced over at me. “Does that bother you?”

“No. Should it?”

“I don’t know. It’s just… they think we’re something we’re not.”

“People have thought stuff about me forever,” I said. “I’ve learned to ignore all of it.”

I had to admit, when we turned onto the Pacific Coast Highway, I found myself staring out at the gorgeous blue water. The Pacific Ocean was a different beast than the Atlantic. I’d been to the Hamptons countless times. But it felt different here.

Mandy pulled into a parking lot near a restaurant perched on a bluff overlooking the water. The place looked low-key, nothing fancy. Interesting.

“This is it,” she said, killing the engine.

“This is what?”

“One of my favorite places. The food is incredible, the view is even better, and it’s where I come when I want to eat a good meal.”

We got out and walked inside. The hostess greeted Mandy by name and led us to a table right by the windows. The view was spectacular, nothing but ocean and sky, the waves rolling in steady and hypnotic.

“Okay,” I admitted, settling into my seat. “I can see the appeal of this.”

She smiled. “Just wait until you taste the food.”

We ordered grilled fish for both of us and a bottle of wine that Mandy insisted on. The server brought it over, poured two glasses, and disappeared.

I raised my glass. “To a successful interview.”

“To not completely embarrassing ourselves,” she countered.

We clinked glasses and drank. The wine was good. I imagined it came from up north. We were in the right place for the good stuff.

“So,” Mandy said, setting her glass down. “Tell me something.”

“Tell you what?”

“Why did you become a lawyer? Like, really. What made you choose that path while your brothers are more about the fashion side of things.”

I groaned. “That’s a boring story.”

“I want to hear it anyway.”

I looked at her, at the genuine interest in her eyes. She actually wanted to know.

“Alright,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you. If you fall asleep, I’ll drive us home.”

Shit. Home. I just called her house home.

I took another sip of wine, gathering my thoughts.

“I was sixteen,” I started. “The company was doing well, Dad was in his prime, everything seemed solid. And then this guy came out of nowhere with a lawsuit. He claimed Dad had stolen his designs and Blackwell Couture had built its success on his work.”