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He pulls at the cuffs of his shirt and relaxes his posture, again. “She loved me. And we were going to leave.”
“And go where?” I prod, my surprise genuine. I had no idea she was planning to leave. I thought she'd never leave.
He runs a hand through his hair, a small smile on his lips. “After college. To Austin. I was going to get involved in the party, and she was going to be my wife. With my pedigree and name, her money and her smarts, we were going to go all the way. But then she died, and my father turned out to be a crook so here I am.”
“You’re telling me the last ten years you haven’t met a woman rich enough and desperate enough to marry you?”
“Believe it or not, there aren’t that many heiresses out there, and what I’m trying to do takes real money.”
This is going exactly as I hoped. I lean back in my seat, pretending to think about it. “So, what will you do if you don’t get this money?”
His shoulders slump a little, and he swallows audibly before he shrugs. “We both know I’m not cut out to run this company. I’d run it straight into the ground like I did my start up. If I had the money, I’d hire someone competent to take my place and start my political career.” His expression is wistful. “What would you do?”
That might be the most honest thing he’s ever said, and I feel a flicker of respect for him. So, I cut straight to the chase. “I’d start an art school, paint, travel, but most of all, I’d choose.”
“We can do this.” he says, leaning forward, hope gleaming in his eyes.
“I think so, too.” I agree.
“You… do?” He eyes me like he’s worried I’m holding a bomb behind my back.
I sigh and lean forward. “Yes, but only if we are on the same page - this is about the money and nothing else, and you’re willing to put it all in writing, I think we could make it work.”
“Yes.”
I blink. “Really?” His acceptance, despite being what I hoped for, makes me nervous. ”Well, I have conditions. I want to move to New York full-time when you start that job.”
“Fine. Just a heads up, I have a piece
of ass in New York. And in a few other frequently visited cities.”
“I don’t care.” I cross my arms and glare at the him before I turn away and glare at the wall. My eyes drift around the room as I contemplate my options. I take in the speckled white wall and the concrete floors of the windowless room. Right now being subject to Duke’s goodwill feels like a huge upgrade from this place.
“We’ll have to live together,” he reminds me.
My gut churns. “Eventually, but when I quit my job here I want the lake house.”
“That’s fine. I’m sure your dad would agree if I told him it was for us.”
I stifle a sneer at those words. My dad would agree to anything for Duke. Not for me.
“And I want to start my art school.”
“As soon as the money vests, you can.”
I blanche. “What do you mean, vests?”
He shrugs. “Your dad mentioned it when he talked to me after you left. We can’t split up for a certain amount of time, they have clauses about time frames. We can check and see.”
“Okay.”
“Fine. All of that sounds reasonable.”
“Do you have conditions?
“Only that we sign NDAs and keep this deal to ourselves. We’ll start spending time together, sitting together at functions, and then we’ll tell everyone we’re dating. We’ll do this for a few months, then we’ll get engaged. We’ll set a date for a year after that.”
At my grimace, he shakes his head, his smile indulgent, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “This can’t look like anything other than you and me falling in love and getting married.”
