CHAPTER 9
RILEY
I wasn’t sure why I nearly flinched at Seth’s accusation.
Really, I didn’t owe him an explanation. “Why does it matter?” I responded in a clipped voice. “Is it really necessary for you to know my background to fulfill my side of our contract?”
The brief flash of disappointment in his eyes nearly made me apologize.
Almost.
Then I quickly remembered that all of this was a contract. A deal we’d made so I could get the property turned into a protected area.
In reality, there was nothing personal about this facade. At all.
His steely gaze felt like he could see right through me, but I knew he couldn’t. Thank God. There were far too many things I didn’t want him to see. That I didn’t want anybody to recognize.
Deep inside, I was damaged. I didn’t want to reveal that to anyone who could use it against me.
“That’s a whole lot of bullshit,” Seth ground out. “You could have warned me, Riley.”
Sometimes I found it intriguing that he could switch between a blue-collar man who used to do manual labor, and a coldhearted billionaire businessman. It shouldn’t have been surprising, since he really was both of those things. It was fascinating to watch the chameleonlike behavior firsthand.
Was he still unsure of which one he should be? Or was it a tactic to catch people off guard?
The problem was, because he could change in the blink of an eye, he kept me off balance.
Remember that all of this is business. It’s not real.
I didn’t need to know him or figure out his entire personality. I just had to fulfill my end of the deal.
“Margaret!” I heard the sharp tone of my mother’s voice as she approached us.
Dammit!
I’d managed to avoid her all night because she’d been busy socializing every time I’d seen her.
I was so damn close to making an escape, but she’d caught me.
Seth was staring curiously as Carol Montgomery stopped in front of us. “Margaret?” he said in a low voice next to my ear.
“Later,” I said in a whisper that only he could hear.
“Were you going to leave before you spoke to me?” my mother questioned in the pretentiously cordial but snippy tone I’d come to hate over the years.
“You were busy,” I muttered, hating myself for feeling like the unsatisfactory daughter, even though I was an educated adult female now.
As usual, the woman who had borne me looked immaculate. Her black evening gown was paired with black shoes, and I already knew the outfit was custom tailored to skim down her slim body perfectly.
Carol Montgomery was a beautiful woman, even though she was in her sixties. She hadn’t needed the plethora of plastic surgeries or Botox she got on a regular basis, but growing older was never something my mother would do gracefully. Her hair was dyed in her usual choice of color, a dark brown. God forbid she should show any of the bright-red hair color that was natural for her.
“Introductions, Margaret,” she said like a strict teacher talking to an unruly student.
I sent her a plastic smile. “Of course,” I replied, falling into my social role with more ease than I would have liked. “Seth, this is my mother, Carol Montgomery. Mother, this is Seth Sinclair.”
“Charmed,” she purred as she shook Seth’s hand, and then turned back to me. “Margaret, have you gained weight?”
I cringed, but I guess I never should have expected my mother to act any differently than she ever had. “A few pounds.”
More like five or ten, but who was counting—except my mother.
“And that dress, Margaret?” she said. “It certainly isn’t becoming on a curvy woman. Not to mention that the color is garish. Perhaps you should rethink those shoes, too.”
God, I knew she would hate the silver shoes.
“I like the color of my dress.” I finally found my rebellious streak.
She made a tutting sound before she said, “It’s not your style, dear. It’s so much better when you cover your legs.”
“I love this dress,” I mumbled.
“I see you’ve gone back to your natural hair color.” She sounded incredibly disgruntled.
Like it was a disgrace to be a natural redhead?
I shot her a fake smile. “Why not? I inherited it from you.”
“She’s an absolutely stunning redhead,” Seth interrupted. “And she looks drop-dead gorgeous tonight in that dress. Just for the record, some men like curvy women instead of skeletons. Your daughter takes my breath away. Riley is unique, which is incredibly appealing, take my word on that.”
My parent stared at Seth like he was an insect, but my heart skipped a beat.
No one ever disagreed with my mother, and I found myself surprised and a little bit touched to have some kind of backup. It was a novel experience. One that made me just a little bit more comfortable with myself again.
“Then you’re obviously . . . different, Mr. Sinclair,” my mother replied in a tone that said she wasn’t giving him a compliment.
Seth shot her a cheeky grin. “I’d rather be different than ordinary.”
“How . . . charming,” she replied unhappily.
My mother was in a position she definitely didn’t like to be placed in. She didn’t want to snub Seth because he was so wealthy, not to mention the fact that he was the brother of the woman who had married Eli Stone, but she didn’t like his offhand attitude, either. Carol Montgomery was used to people deferring to her, and she liked it that way.
I spotted Seth’s black Range Rover stopping in front of the venue as it was delivered by the valet. I let out a sigh of relief. “We have to go, Mother. I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening,” I said politely.
I didn’t touch her or hug her. She would have been mortified.
“Nice to meet you, Carol,” Seth said with a nod before he went to open the car door for me.
My parent shot a dubious look at his vehicle. Thank God she didn’t comment on that.
In her mind, a man should drive a car that screamed expensive and luxurious.
Seth’s . . . didn’t.
It was obvious she didn’t approve of an SUV or any vehicle that didn’t cost as much as some people’s homes.
I happily hopped into the sporty SUV and relaxed against the plush material of the passenger seat. Unlike my mother, I happened to love the comfortable vehicle.
For the average person, it was plenty pricey. The vehicle suited the man who was getting behind the wheel.
I let out an audible sigh as he smoothly got underway for our journey back to Citrus Beach.
“Are you going to explain what just happened?” he finally asked huskily as he took the on-ramp to the freeway.
“What do you mean?” I questioned evasively. I was glad it was dark, so I didn’t have to be under his sharp, assessing gaze.
“You can start by telling me who Margaret is,” he suggested.
“Me,” I told him. “My real name is Margaret Riley Montgomery. But I’ve been going by Riley since I was a kid. My brothers always hated the name Margaret, and I wasn’t exactly fond of it myself. My mother is the only one who calls me that, other than my ex. And my father. But he’s deceased now. He died ten years ago of a stroke.”