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“Pretty impressed with yourself, aren’t you?”
“Generally. So are you. Admit it.” He holds my gaze for a good, long while. “I noticed your shoes. Found out your shoe size. Bought you a pair that suited you. Slipped them onto your feet. You liked every moment of it. You’re the kind of woman who appreciates a man who appreciates details.”
“I appreciate men who tell me the truth about what they really want from me.”
He shakes his head slowly. “No, you want to be chased. Not presented with an offer.”
I suck in a breath and take another bite of my food. He’s right but I’ll die before I admit it. I’m beginning to think he doesn’t know who I am after all. Which makes tonight a different kind of game. One where I can be Vivian Vandemark and let this “chase” play out a bit longer. I can’t remember a time I’ve been more tempted.
“Owen Construction is a large company. Tell me about it.”
He cocks his head at this somewhat tepid turn of topic, but allows me to take us there.
“It’s a family affair,” he says, and then mentions that he and his two brothers were at his parents’ house for his mother’s birthday party last night. He doesn’t seem embittered while talking about family like I do. I’m filled with an unfamiliar emotion: jealousy. And a more recent one: loneliness.
“The Owens are incredible people,” he goes on. “They are generous. Kind. Open and loving. I couldn’t have been luckier.” He makes the emotional admission casually. I can tell he cares about them, deeply. His career revolves around honoring the family’s reputation. That’s important to him.
Our dessert plates arrive. At the offer of a cappuccino, coffee, or other after-dinner spirit, I can’t resist. “Cappuccino, please.”
Nate holds up his hand as a “no, thank you.”
“So you’re adopted,” I say after the waiter leaves.
“You didn’t do your research on the Owens before you visited Grand Marin?”
“I wasn’t given much time, seeing as how Gary was thrown out on his ass minutes prior to my assignment.”
“What about after I saved your life and you returned to the office? You didn’t research us then?”
I try to hold in a laugh and in the process emit a quiet snort. His eyebrows lift in amusement. He wants to know if I was curious about him. I was, but I didn’t satisfy my curiosity. Dig deep enough on anyone wealthy and you’ll find one common denominator. Lies.
But. I’ve been in his company for a good hour and I’m no longer sure I’d find lies. He doesn’t seem to be driven by power the way the men in my past were. I don’t know what to make of him. He’s rough, charming, attractive, surprising, superior, and kind. It’s an odd cocktail of attributes.
My father was secretive, efficient, self-serving. He supported Walt and me out of a sense of duty more than from the goodness of his heart. The optics on the Steele name and all that. A name I ran from.
I answer his question with one of my own. “Are your brothers adopted too?”
“Benji, yes. Archer, no. He’s authentic. A born-and-bred billionaire. I entered the family as a punk kid with a chip on my shoulder.”
“So, you feel less than authentic?”
“Sometimes.” He shrugs big shoulders. The suit is delicious on him. There’s no other word for it. All his brawn outlined in fine fabrics. Yum. I wonder if it took him a while to feel comfortable wearing one. As if proving my point, he tucks his finger into his collar and scratches underneath where his tie is knotted.
“What about you, Viv? Any family struggles?”
I hesitate a moment before saying, “No family. I’m an orphan.” I decided when I changed my name that’d be my story if anyone asked.
“No foster family?”
I shake my head. “I was an adult when I lost them.”
Thankfully, he doesn’t press for details.
“What do your brothers do for Owen Construction?” I ask, curious about everyone’s roles. Are they as saintly as Nate implied, or yet another family of billionaires hiding a secret that will eventually put some, or all, of them in jail?
“Benji crunches the numbers. Archer builds bars and clubs.”
“And you gravitated to live-work communities?”
