Lane ignores him, still focused on Edgar. “Are you saying she won’t be carrying on the legacy?” He gives me an assessing look. “A bit of polish and she should be fine.”
What’s that ringing sound I hear? Oh yes, must be the endorsement. No wonder Edgar didn’t want me to meet his parents. This is embarrassing—for everyone involved.
“Can we have dinner without discussing the family legacy?” Edgar says flatly. “Jo isn’t interested in that.”
“You can’t just enjoy the benefits without taking on any of the responsibilities,” Lane insists. “Look at Court.”
The temperature in the room seems to drop ten degrees. I wish the floor would open up, swallow Lane and spit him out in China…
I don’t even know what “family legacy” entails. It might be s
omething simple, and agreeing to it might ease the tension between Edgar and his dad.
“Edgar’s right,” Ivy interjects before I can say anything. “Why don’t we postpone the discussion for later? Tension isn’t good for digestion.” She lays a hand over her stomach with a small frown.
“We wouldn’t want you to feel bad,” Lane says immediately. His response is sincere, but I have a feeling it isn’t out of love or concern. “Your babies are so important.”
“One girl and one boy,” Tony adds. His blue gaze is so piercing that I don’t know how Lane can hold it.
“One girl. Well…” Lane sighs. “Let’s just eat.”
He doesn’t bring up the family legacy or responsibilities for the rest of the evening. But I can’t help but think he’s going to try to talk about them again, if not with both Edgar and me together, then at least with us separately.
He didn’t come all the way to Los Angeles just to be thwarted. I’ll be damned, though, if I let him use me to hurt Edgar.
Chapter Forty-One
Jo
Thankfully, Lane leaves when Tony, Ivy, Court and Pascal do. Not because he wants to, but because Tony puts a hand over his shoulder and gestures at the door with his chin. The tension drops to normal as the elevator doors close behind them, and I let out a relieved breath.
Edgar and I toss all the paper plates and plastic utensils, then put the leftovers in the fridge. I nibble my lip, debating if I should ask Edgar about the supposed “role” his father was talking about.
But Edgar said it wasn’t something I needed to worry about. And the tension in his shoulders and neck is finally beginning to ease. If I bring up the topic now, it’ll only ruin the rest of the evening.
Also, I’d rather not waste more of my time on Lane. He’s oddly unpleasant man. It isn’t because he can’t make good conversation—he was actually somewhat charming once he quit trying to talk about me and this legacy business. He told some funny stories and he was solicitous toward Ivy. But something just felt off about his interactions with everyone. Like there was nothing genuine behind them.
So I’m not going to worry about him, especially after his somewhat snobbish attitude toward me.
“About what my father said about the family legacy and all that,” Edgar begins, his words deliberate. “I don’t want you to worry about any of it.”
“I know. He can ask me to come to Tempérane all he wants, but I’m not going until you and I decide we should. And I’m sorry I let him in. I didn’t realize he was going to be so…odd,” I say, settling on the nicest word I can come up with for Lane.
Edgar smiles, although it isn’t the bright version I saw at the doctor’s office. “It’s not a problem. You would have had to meet him at some point.”
“Anyway, let’s not waste the evening talking about him. I have to do some admin work to wrap up tonight. How about you?”
“I have a report I can go over,” he says.
I sit on an armchair and send invoices to clients for half an hour. I always try to send them as quickly as possible, but sometimes my schedule is such that I have to wait until I have some free time.
Once that’s done, I go to the bathroom and get ready for bed.
I skim my hand over the brand-new magenta-pink silk nightie I bought on impulse today when I was out and about with Maria. But tonight isn’t going to be just about sleeping.
Sex.
It’s been in the back of my mind. There’s no way Edgar and I aren’t doing it. The crazy pull we felt for each other the night we met was still there today after the appointment. We would’ve kissed—and done a lot more—if Maria hadn’t called.