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“Your assumption is correct.”
“What do I have to do?”
“Meet me for a lunch date.”
I smirk and raise my brows. “That’s all you want?”
“No, Venus, I want so much more from you.” He pauses for a moment. “Right now, I want a date with you. One hour outside the bedroom and tasting each other where we can talk.”
My skin is suddenly so hot I have to crack the window open to cool down.
He wants a date. The same date he wanted last night, and I said no.
The same reasons for turning him down still stand, but now he’s waving something I truly want in front of me.
“Then we can talk about all the reasons why we’re allowing your father to stop us from seeing each other,” he adds.
We were both vague with our reasons the other week. I want to know his. It can’t just be that I’m my father’s daughter. He’d all but said Dad was holding something over him, too, when we talked. I feel like we’re at a stage now where I should explain more about my reasons to him.
I think for a moment and come up with a brilliant idea of my own. “If I said yes, could I have that interview with you for my mom’s magazine?”
“Baby, you’re asking way too much of me.”
“It gives me an excuse to see you.”
“Okay, you got it. One interview and the chance to do an article on my manor if you agree to a date with me.”
“I’m agreeing. And oh my God, thank you.” I try to contain my excitement but I’m grinning from ear to ear and head to toe. “You have no idea what this means to me.”
“You sound happy. That’s good.”
“I am happy.” I can’t remember the last time I said those words or felt the emotion. It’s a good feeling and it comes with hope. Hope that I can move on from this bad spell in my life. “When do you want me to see you?”
“Today. Meet me at lunchtime at the manor.”
“Okay. See you then.”
“And you, Venus.”
I hear him in my head even after I’ve hung up. Lunch is in two hours. I’m ecstatic I get the chance to do the story, but I can’t wait to see him and hear about this idea of his.
Vanderville Manor stands as a hauntingly beautiful architectural masterpiece which speaks of a bygone era.
Constructed from dark weathered stone, the exterior is adorned with intricate gargoyles on the roof who stare down at visitors and a grand entrance, framed by wrought-iron fixtures leading out to a cobblestone courtyard,
Stained glass adorns the windows, and thick ivy crawls along the walls, projecting an air of mystery and enchantment.
It has that almost creepy vibe associated with most gothic-style homes, but the secrets that lie inside call to me.
I’ve just arrived and can’t stop staring.
An elderly man with a French accent greeted me at the door and showed me in. Now he’s taking me through a wide hallway with seriously expensive paintings on both walls.
I’m sure what I’m looking at is easily worth several million, or what some art enthusiast would deem priceless.
I was aware Luc was wealthy. A billionaire outside of hockey, and that’s saying something considering he’s one of the highest paid players in the NHL, but this is beyond anything I could imagine. And it’s just one thing.
We reach the back of the house and step into a plush garden with a wondrous view of the lake and the forest.
