Page 66 of Filthy Rich

“Yes. Because I’ve never met a man like you?—”

He makes a strangled sound. “I’ve never met a woman like you, Ms. Scott. Let me assure you.”

“—and I’ll be, I don’t know, having drinks with my friends and getting on the dating websites. Swiping on idiots my own age and trying to find someone as funny and sexy and interesting as you, when I know I won’t. And you’ll be out there hooking up with tall, beautiful women who are nothing like me. Because that’s your usual type. Not me.”

“What makes you think you know anything about what I want or need? You’re a mind reader now?”

“Lucien…”

“You don’t know one fucking thing about what I want.”

The sudden harshness in his tone startles me. Why is he angry?

“I know I don’t,” I say. “That’s part of the problem. Why don’t you tell me what you’re thinking for once? Then I will know.”

He hesitates and takes one of those deep breaths that’s supposed to calm everyone down and defuse the situation. “Who says you have to? Forget about me, I mean.”

That gets my absolute attention. I shift around to face him.

“Oh my God. What do you mean?” I say, making no attempt to keep the urgency out of my voice.

“I mean I want to see you again when we get back,” he says. “We’re not done with each other. We both know it.”

Whoa.

My brain shifts into overdrive, running scenarios while hope soars through me.

It could work, right? He lives on Long Island, and I live in the city, but we could see each other on weekends if nothing else. Plus, I’m sure he comes to the city all the time for his various meetings and whatnot, so I could catch him then. He owns fast cars that could quickly drive back and forth between us.

It could definitely work. For a while, at least.

But…

I sit there for a minute, too stunned to speak and wondering why the suggestion doesn’t make me feel any better. It’s what I want, right? To keep seeing him for as long as he lets me stick around. To have more adventures. To make him smile. To feel him wrapped around me and moving inside me.

What could be better?

On the other hand, what could be worse than spending more time with a man who’s the emotional equivalent of a brick wall? I’m no genius, but that seems like a pretty bad idea.

“I want to.” It’s hard to get the words out around the sudden lump in my throat. “But I don’t think I should.”

He goes very still. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t know anything about you. Not really. You won’t let me. I’m an open book, and you’re one big secret. It’s like pulling teeth to get the most basic information from you. And I don’t want to get hurt.”

“I told you,” he says sharply. “There’s nothing to know.”

I get up and walk away from him, rising frustration making my head feel as though it’s about to explode.

“Do you really believe that? Or is it that you think I’m stupid enough to believe that? I know I’m young, but I’m not an idiot. And I’m dying to know everything about you. Because you’re all I think about.”

“You’re all I think about,” he says, shifting around to keep me in sight.

“I wish that were true.”

“It is true.”

I shake my head, my protective instincts finally gathering a little steam. “Even if it is true, you don’t let people in. You don’t let me in. You’re like a walking red flag for me, and half the time I don’t even care. It would be so easy for me to really lose my head over you. And we both know that would end badly for me. For a million different reasons.” I nod, beginning to feel stronger and more confident in my decision, painful as it is. “Mrs. Hooper is right. I need to be smarter than that. I’m not going to be a fool for you. No matter how much I want to.”

---