“I’m sure they’ll manage,” I say, wetting my thumb so I can easily flip through to the économie section of the newspaper.
She feigns a worried gasp. “Oh dear, now one of them has completely lost her bikini top. She’s looking everywhere for it. She really needs help.”
My only reply is the flutter of my newspaper as I turn to another page.
She sighs in defeat and turns back toward the lake. At first, she sits there with her book turned upside down on her lap. She isn’t quite ready to throw in the towel.
“To be clear, I’m not a bad influence,” I tell her, my focus still on my paper. “I didn’t drag you out into the garden last night like some deviant. You found me.”
She huffs annoyedly. “Yes, sure. I stumbled upon you innocently enough, but when everyone saw us run out of the gardens together, they all assumed the same thing.”
“Which was what exactly?”
“Don’t be obtuse.”
My devilish grin is impossible to suppress. “I’d like to hear you say it.”
She closes her book and leans toward me. “You’re not good for a lady’s reputation. For my reputation.”
“Why?”
“Because of who you are…a billionaire playboy with nothing to lose. I’d rather not look like I’m this week’s flavor.”
“I could take offense to that.”
“But you won’t,” she responds dryly.
No, I won’t. I’m not easily offended. I hold myself in too high of regard to care what other people think of me.
“For the record, I’m hardly a playboy.”
She sighs as if she almost pities me. “I know you aren’t all over gossip magazines or anything. In comparison to other men like you, you’re pretty tame. You were discreet even during your St. John’s days.”
“I had no idea you kept such careful watch over me.”
She doesn’t even flush as she responds matter-of-factly, “Yes, you did.”
At that, I laugh. I love her willingness to meet me head to head. This fiery side of her is so damn intriguing, even more so because she keeps it so well hidden.
She continues, “The world sees things in black and white, unfortunately. They have their assumptions about you and about me, and it’s futile to try to fight against it.”
“Well damn the world. What did your fiancé have to say about last night? Surely his opinion is all that matters.”
My question snuffs the spark from her eyes.
She turns toward the water and leans back against her lounge chair, having decided to ignore my inquiry.
“It’s Royce, isn’t it?”
A simple nod is all I get.
Royce Saunders is exactly the type of man I like to avoid. He’s perfectly average in every arena that counts: intellect, wit, business savvy. He comes from a well-established pedigree and acts like that should be sufficient in and of itself, never mind having an actual personality.
“Why him?”
Her gaze narrows on the water. “You’ll have to ask my grandmother that.”
“How long have you known him?”
“We first met at a dinner party a year or two ago.”
“So the betrothal has been a long time coming?”
Her green eyes pierce me when she whips her head back in my direction. “Why does it matter?”
“Because I’m trying to figure out how it’s possible for someone to care so little about their life. If my father strapped me to a lifetime of suffering alongside the female equivalent of Royce Saunders, I’d do everything in my power to fight against it.”
I can see my comment stings. Her shoulders stiffen, her back straightens.
“Oh yes, what a lovely life you’ll have growing old by yourself, no children or partner by your side, nothing of value to account for beyond that week’s business deal.”
“I never said I don’t want children.”
Her eyebrow arches tauntingly. “Never mind the children’s mother?”
“I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.”
She tosses her hands up. “You see how utterly annoying it is trying to take advice from a man like you?”
She rises from her lounge chair, but I reach out and capture her wrist before she can storm off. I feel desperate to keep her here.
“You’re right. I’m being obtuse. I want to hear straight from your lips why you’re marrying Royce.” I give her wrist a little shake. “Tell me.”
There’s a determined set to her jaw when she replies, “There is nothing to tell. There’s not some big secret, no blackmail or coercion. I want to, so I am. Now leave it alone.”
At that, she wrenches herself free and walks away, her book left forgotten on her chair.
Chapter Seventeen
Lainey
Later that morning, I take a guided tour of the villa with my grandmother and a few others. We stroll from room to room, learning about the artwork and the interiors. Then we go to lunch, which turns out to be incredibly dull. My grandmother sits among her friends. Royce seems caught up in conversation with a gentleman from Russia, and Emmett is so thickly surrounded by worshipping fans that I couldn’t fight my way through the throng if I wanted to. I’m bitter about it through the whole meal, scraping my food around the fine bone china until it finally feels appropriate for me to stand and leave, having finished two bites of a goat cheese and cucumber sandwich and nothing else.