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Certainly not meeting his father.
Andrew Dufort hadn’t spoken to her at the engagement party three months ago in Philadelphia, but then again, it had been a much larger affair.
Tonight had been a small family event and for some reason he had clearly felt it necessary to let her know she wasn’t welcome in their family if she had her sights set on his son.
Had she?
Lily stepped out of the shower and felt her core muscles twinge. A reminder that said son had just well and truly fucked her.
And told her she belonged to him.
She didn’t bother arguing with him. First, he’d been drinking, and secondly, everyone knew men like him—rich, attractive men who got what they wanted—didn’t like being told no.
She was going home to Chicago, and they both knew he’d lose interest after a few days. He’d get on with his life, meet a new challenge, and be sleeping with someone else way before she’d gotten over him.
Lily wasn’t going to lie to herself. The way he made her feel was incredible.
She’d never orgasmed so hard or so much in her life. And the way he stood and walked beside her in such a protective manner was intoxicating. Even his kisses made her feel like she was the most precious thing on earth.
It was addictive, and she’d be a fool to say she didn’t love it. And want him.
She did.
But Lily was pragmatic.
The entire thing was messing with her brain. She knew she was right, that Aidan would move on, and yet as she’d sat on the beach wearing one of her new hats last night, he’d shot her a wink. One that said,I fucking bought that for you and I’m proud as punch.
Despite his immeasurable wealth.
Later on, back in her hotel suite, Aidan had lifted on and asked her if it was her favorite.
“They all are,” she said, leaving outbecause you got them for me.
He was such a contradiction.
Lily had no idea why Aidan had singled her out and wanted her. She was just a girl from the South Side of Chicago.
She didn’t even own a car.
The most valuable thing in her life—except her family—was her sketches. They might not be worth anything, but she’d been doing it all her life, and they were her way of expressing herself when there was no one else to share her feelings with. And capturing moments that meant something to her.
Like she had last night on Waikiki Beach. Drawing the scene in front of her, and when Aidan finally stopped watching her, she’d outlined his incredible profile.
So, she had nothing of value besides her easel pencils and paints. And her butterfly pendant her dad had bought her for her twenty-first birthday.
One she would wear forever.
Reaching for a towel, she patted herself down and then twisted her hair up into a wet, messy bun. Then she straightened her necklace, so it sat perfectly on her collarbone and headed back out to the bedroom.
Lily located her phone, flopped onto the bed, and scrolled. Then pressed send on her dad’s number.
After a dozen rings, she pressed end.
Then she tried her mom’s phone.
The same thing happened.
Weird.
