“It’s only for a few weeks, Grandma.” I put a soft emphasis on “Grandma” and smile the sweetest smile I can manage.
“Did Thomas change his mind?”
“No.” My paternal grandfather Thomas is an artist and one of a few people Grandma can’t control—and therefore disapproves of. He’s seen my work and decided to help me become a painter like him.
“The family foundation is your legacy. It needs you,” she says as the chef brings out my breakfast.
“Thank you,” I say, more to the chef than to Grandma. “The foundation is great, but I’m sure it’ll be fine without me. Besides, I will be leaving for Italy soon.” No way I’m staying in L.A. to do whatever Grandma has in mind. She didn’t insist on any of my brothers or male cousins taking over the family foundation, just the girls in the family. It’s totally sexist in the first place, and anyway, I want to be in charge of my own destiny.
What about Dominic?
I take a quick sip of the coffee to wet my suddenly dry mouth. I’ll have to figure something out. Maybe we can work something long distance, then he can join me in Europe. His sister Kristen is only sixteen, but she’s a year ahead in school. She can study at a university in Europe. There are plenty of great ones there. I’ll even have her tuition paid.
“You should eat your breakfast,” Grandma says.
“I’m not really hungry.”
Her eye
brow twitches ever so slightly. “Elizabeth…we may be Pryces, but we can’t always do what we want.”
“But we can strive to have a life we want, can’t we? Everyone has that right.”
She smiles, her thin lips curving just so. “Youthful optimism. I approve. A Pryce should be at least that ambitious.”
Sudden shivers ripple along my spine. I stand up. “I forgot I have an appointment. I have to go.”
“I hope the appointment was worth delaying your trip, sweetheart.”
My throat tight and unable to muster a farewell, I leave.
Is it me, or did Grandma sound vaguely threatening?
Chapter Nine
Dominic
I dice a bunch of fresh veggies for semi-homemade pasta sauce. Liza once again wants to stay in.
It bothers me a little that she’s such a hermit. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she’s embarrassed to be seen with me, but that isn’t it. She’s come by my bar a few times to surprise me, and I did manage to drag her out for tacos once.
I’m probably overthinking this.
Besides, I’m okay with what she wants. If she said, “Let’s have a date in Siberia,” I’d find a way to make it happen.
And staying in has some advantages. We can do takeout or cook together. She isn’t the best cook, but I’m pretty decent as long as I follow Mom’s recipes. Liza loves to sing in the kitchen, which never fails to put a smile on my face. She has an amazing voice, hitting each note pitch perfect.
I check frequently to see if she wants to go out someplace fancy where I can spoil her, but she always says no…and means it. Says our dates aren’t about splurging on expensive things but being with each other.
And sex. Lots and lots of hot sex, the best kind of sex.
It isn’t the best sex ever because Liza is particularly kinky—she isn’t. It isn’t because she’s overly adventurous—she isn’t. It’s her mind and soul that get to me. Our nights aren’t just filled with fucking—in between, we can talk about any and everything. The only thing we don’t go into is her family. She seems uncomfortable whenever the topic comes up.
“My dad… He has his own company,” she volunteered one time after I told her my parents died in a hit-and-run two years ago.
“What kind?”
“Not sure. I never paid attention. We aren’t really that close—he’s busy a lot. Mom was his first wife, and things didn’t end nicely.”