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That was a damn long time considering I’d seen her almost every day for the past three weeks.
The first three days after the incident, I holed myself up at the Concord. Ben finally busted down my door and threw me in the shower. And he was here again today, loitering where he wasn’t wanted.
He already knew what had gone down at the wrap party—everyone did—but he didn’t pry or ask me about it.
Which I appreciated.
I watched him stare at the manila envelope on the coffee table. Without looking up, he asked, “Are those the trust fund papers?”
I nodded. My birthday was next week and I’d become a multimillionaire.
He whistled. “Twenty-four million dollars?”
Again, I nodded to confirm his question.
He cursed under his breath.
My mother hadn’t spent a penny of her inheritance. Instead, she’d put it away for me. Twenty-four million at twenty-four.
My lawyer had couriered the papers over. My father was still keeping his distance since the wrap party, which was a good thing. I had no idea what I wanted to say.
My life had imploded over the last three weeks. Not only had I found out my parents aren’t really my parents…but I might have fallen in love.
And I was fucking it all up. I knew it, but something inside told me it was for the best.
“So what career path are you going to pursue now that you have your money?”
I looked over at him. Confused. “I already have a career.”
Ben laughed, his wide-toothed grin sparkled. “You think I haven’t noticed?” He leaned forward in his chair and let his hands fall between his legs. “I’ve known you since we were nine years old. I kn
ow you better than you know yourself.”
I took another swig of my beer even though it was only eleven in the morning. “And what exactly do you know?” Pearls of wisdom from Benson Lockwood. This should be rich.
“That you want out of porn.”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I contemplated my response, but he didn’t give me a chance.
“If I didn’t already know you wanted out, that day in your office, when your father mentioned selling, gave you away.”
He didn’t stick around to dwell on his observations. He picked up the empty beer bottles on the coffee table, most of them from last night—most of them—and walked to the empty case in the kitchenette.
“I get it, Maxy. I really do.” The clink of the bottles forced me to look over at him. “I know you feel guilty about not wanting to take over for your father. I know you think you have to do this, but you don’t.”
These pearls of wisdom were unexpected—but exactly the words I needed to hear. Whether I believed him was a different story.
Ben had it easy. He worked hard, but there were no expectations, no unrealistic plans already defining his future. He worked in porn because he wanted to, not because anyone had forced him into it.
“I take your silence to be agreement.” Water rushed into the small sink. I heard the spritz of the hand soap.
“I’m not agreeing to anything.”
A cloud shifted, causing the sun to blast through the window. It felt nice on my skin, not only because it was the first time in four days that the blinds were up, but it reminded me there was a whole other world out there that I was ignoring.
Ben returned to the black leather chair across from me, crossing an ankle over the opposite knee. He stared, an uncomfortable stare that almost had me squirming in my seat.
I jumped when he yelled at me, “Where the fuck is my friend?”
