Sympathy stirs within me. And something else. Not pity. It’s more profound and complicated, like abstract algebra. A man from such a wealthy family with a mother that cold should be a self-centered jerk. I’ve seen my share of them, from rich frat boys in college to many of the clients at the firm. It’s always worst when they haven’t made their mark yet and need to feel more important than everyone else.
But Court is different. He doesn’t make any grand gestures to impress me or throw money around in an ostentatious fashion, but he shows he cares in small ways. He’s considerate and kind to my mom and Nijinsky. He doesn’t try to monopolize the conversation, and he’s scrupulously polite to my dad. And he hasn’t brought up even once that I didn’t text him back over the weekend or that I didn’t go to the dinner party with him. It’s like he just accepts that I might have my own life with things that don’t involve him.
It only makes me like him more. Makes me think there could be more than just hot chemistry from before…that we can be friends, too.
This is the first time I ever felt like that about a guy I had sex with. And my fluttering heart says it might not end with mere friendship.
Chapter Nineteen
Court
Skittles relaxes more as the lunch goes on. She seemed happy to see me at first in the office, but I sensed her tensing up pretty quickly. It’s as though she thought I was there to start an inquisition about yesterday or to embarrass her somehow.
Well… Okay, so I did embarrass her in Maui, but I thought I redeemed myself on Saturday. And the calla lilies were inspired, too. Yuna told me they’re elegant flowers that represent good fortune and magnificent beauty. And Skittles certainly deserves that designation, and also a warning sign around her that says, “Stay away because she’s taken!”
Besides, I like her. Before I see her, I think the effect she has on me is going to lessen. Hell, I can’t even watch a movie more than once without being bored out of my mind, no matter how good it is. But instead, I crave more of her. More sex, definitely. But also just more time with her.
I resent the hell out of her dad for not having promoted her already. Then she wouldn’t be on this ridiculous no-dating-until-promotion kick. Why couldn’t he have half the zeal my dad does to have his own kids continuing the Family Legacy?
“So. What are you planning to do now that you have all your money?” she asks between bites.
That feels like an interview question. Too bad I don’t have anything clever to say in response. I could make up something that sounds really grandiose. Like the junk people put on their PowerPoint slides to impress investors.
I’m going to conquer the world. Build an empire that’s going to last a millennium. And start a dynasty to put all dynasties to shame.
But Skittles deserves better. “I don’t know yet.”
“Are you going to join your family business?”
My whole body tenses for a moment, but I force myself to relax. She doesn’t know she’s poking a sore point. “Probably not. My brother’s doing a great job with it, and I don’t see why I should get in his way. So, what do you think about the burger? Just as good as real meat?”
“Actually, yeah. I wouldn’t have guessed.” She wipes her fingers on the paper napkin. “Definitely worth considering investing in. I’d bring my friends.”
I just smile. To be honest, I’m not interested in restaurant businesses. They’re competitive and have horrible margins. But Skittles wants the veneer of us “not being in a relationship”. And she doesn’t want me dropping a hundred million bucks into her company. So this is my compromise. If anybody asks, she came out to lunch to help me make an investment decision. And the calla lilies are for being a mean baker.
A little sneaky, but all’s fair in love and war. And that Chinese dude Sun Tzu said it’s okay to use subterfuge to win. Besides, this is really win-win. She gets what she needs—lunch—and I get what I want—time with her.
When the bill arrives, Skittles reaches into her purse.
I raise a hand. “I got it.”
“No, it’s okay. I always pay for my own things.”
Must be the same independent streak that made her leave that fifty bucks. So it wasn’t just a one-time thing. I can respect that, but this is a date, even if she doesn’t know it. “Yeah, but I asked you here for your professional opinion. So technically, it’s a business lunch, and I plan to expense it.” On the altar of dating funds.
She hesitates.
“Unless you plan to bill me…?”
Shock crosses her gorgeous face. “What? No. Of course not.” I take the opportunity to slide a few bills to the server. “Shouldn’t you put that on a business credit card?” she says, recovering quickly.
“Cash is easier.”
And it’s a habit. Since forever, banks sent all the bills to the trustee controlling my money, which happened to be Dad until a few days ago. Because I didn’t need him knowing when, where or how much I spent, I always used cash unless it was something like an airline or hotel reservation. Trust me, that chafed like hell.
Her response is a skeptical look.
I merely smile wider, then take he