At the mention of his sister, she caught her bottom lip with her teeth. Why wasn’t she still angry about that? She should be. And yet coffee in a café sounded wonderful. The way to bring the night to an end. And she did need to bring it to an end, what with Zach at home alone. She needed to bring it to an end and get away from the conundrum that was James Dyson.
Five minutes later, they were in his Aston Martin again, the Sydney streets passing her in a blur of color and neon lights. He didn’t speak. Should she be grateful for that, or uncomfortable? And why the hell did disappointment eat away at her?
“May I ask a question?”
She nodded at his sudden question, catching her bottom lip as she studied his hawkish profile in the dashboard’s dim glow. “Sure.”
“Why did you turn your back on your family before your father was caught? When Platinum Joe was still making money, why did you leave it?”
He didn’t take his stare from the road. His grip on the steering wheel turned his knuckles white. Letting out a ragged sigh, she dragged her hands through her hair. Perhaps if James knew more about her past, he’d stop blaming her for Clinton’s death. If he understood her more…
“Being very wealthy is surreal.” She shook her head. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that. I never really felt comfortable with it, even as a little girl. While my friends were getting a new Barbie for Christmas or a new dress, I was getting a pony or having a birthday party in Paris.”
He chuckled, the sound wry. “I celebrated my thirteenth birthday in Paris.”
“I celebrated my thirteenth birthday by getting drunk at one of Dad’s famous parties and passing out in the back of some musician’s car.”
The memory stole through her, cold and clammy and acrid. What would he say to that?
She traced the line of his profile with her gaze, waiting. He flicked her a quick sideways glance and said nothing.
“I think that was the real beginning of my disenchantment with wealth.” She turned back to the side window. “Gradually, I grew more and more disinterested in the trappings. My parents divorced, and the custody battle was horrible. I watched Dad drink and snort his way through many more wild parties after that. When I was eighteen, one of his business associates hit on me at one of those parties. The man had his hand up my skirt, pulling at my underpants before I knew what was going on. He told me Dad didn’t mind. Said with his money and my looks normal rules didn’t exist. Told me we were above society and could do whatever the fuck we wanted.”
“Jesus.” James’s flat expletive sounded through the Aston Martin’s cabin.
Sienna closed her eyes on the unpleasant memory. “I moved out the next day. If that’s what being rich was, I didn’t want anything to do with it. No one in my family tried to make me come back. The businessman turned up at my small apartment a week later. Told me he still wanted to fuck me. Offered to put me up in a penthouse apartment overlooking the harbor.” She snorted out a dry laugh. “He really couldn’t understand why I said no.”
“Who was the businessman?”
She looked at him, her stomach a knotted mess. “Why? You going to destroy him for me? Be my knight in Hugo Boss?”
“Yes.”
His response stunned her, even as it sent a lick of heat through her heart. “See? This is what I don’t like about money. It makes you believe you are a god, with no boundaries or limits. Not answerable to morals or ethics. The kind of things people who aren’t ridiculously wealthy hold dear.”
“There are plenty of poor arseholes in the world, Sienna.”
She chuckled. “True, but they can’t always pay their way out of trouble, can they? Or make trouble go away by signing a check. Dad found that out the hard way.” She shrugged, settling back in the luxurious passenger seat. “And now he’s where he deserves to be. Simple.”
“So you don’t paint for fame? For recognition? For money?”
Plucking at the high hem of her skirt, she shook her head. “I paint because I’d go crazy if I didn’t. I only ever wanted to earn a living from it so I never had to ask Dad for help. Things changed, of course, when Zach came to live with me. Then I needed to make a living to pay for his schooling, to keep him in a steady home with some semblance of normality.” She snorted again, smoothing her palm over her thigh. “Not really sure I’ve been doing a good job of that lately, what with you and Thomas St. Clair in my home.”