Page 13 of Seductive Hearts

She looked happier, so I pursued the topic. “What do you mean?”

“My mother just about threw a fit when I told her I wanted to work.” She leaned against the counter, chuckling. “And believe me, if you think your father is a tough nut to crack, you should have known your grandmother back in the day. It was my dad who told me to go ahead with it.” There was fondness in her voice, though I doubt she felt generous at the time.

“Why were you determined to work when you didn’t need to?” I asked. She’d grown up the way I had, unlike Dad.

She lifted a shoulder and said, “I wanted something I could be proud of. And I am. I have something for me, something I built along with Auntie Olivia.” She insisted on calling her that, even if we weren’t related. The fact that we’d spent every waking moment growing up with the Goldsmiths, they may as well count as family. It made sense.

Guess the apple didn’t fall far from the tree with Rose as headstrong as her mother.

But the apple may as well be a dildo in my situation, I was that different than my parents. How could I make her understand? That was fine for her because it was what she wanted. Why did I have to want the same thing my parents had?

“You’re more upset because you’re being told to do it. You don’t have to explain,” she explained when I opened my mouth, prepared to argue. “I know. Nobody wants to be told what to do. But this isn’t worth fracturing the family over. I know I’ve never been very hard on you, but I think your father is right. You need a little bit of responsibility to settle you down. No one is asking you to work full-time for the company. This is only a single project. Who knows? Maybe you’ll end up enjoying it.”

What a shame I wanted to puke over the idea of giving Dad what he wanted. Essentially admitting I’d been a fuckup to that point, but there was nothing a little hard work couldn’t cure. Sanctimonious bullshit.

The only thing I could imagine enjoying was the chance to spend a little time with the untouchable Rose Goldsmith, who had only grown hotter as the years had passed. That wasn’t exactly something I could share with my mother, so instead, I forced the closest thing to an agreeable smile as I could. It made my jaw ache like hell. “I’ll do it, and I won’t complain. But don’t expect me to have this sudden change of heart where I realize I enjoy getting my hands dirty.”

Her lips twitched, and her eyes twinkled as she patted my cheek again. “Believe me, honey. I’m an optimist. I’m not delusional.”

* * *

I was no closer to understanding my father’s rhetoric by the time I arrived in East Hampton. It wasn’t yet nine in the morning on a quiet Sunday.

My day was normally ending, not beginning. Many Sunday mornings, I’d be stumbling into my apartment around this time. But no, I’d already endured a few rounds with my old man and battled traffic on Route 495.

This was the kind of person my father wanted me to become. The early bird catching the worm or some shit. What did people get out of waking up early and hitting the ground running? Self-satisfaction? How the hell far could that possibly get them? Or was it all for show, the way I imagined this meeting had to be?

There I was, figuring we would meet up sometime in the afternoon, maybe grab an early dinner. But no, that wasn’t good enough for Rose.

I didn’t expect her to be around when I arrived. I figured this was one giant pissing contest, her way of reminding me who was boss. She had set the time, but she would show up when she felt like it for the sake of proving a point. Instead of finding the location dark and empty when I arrived, I pulled my Bugatti in beside a fire-red Mustang, the only other car parked in the small lot behind the building.

By the next morning, it would be full of equipment. This was the calm before the storm.

The back door was propped open with a brick placed in front of the door to keep it that way. I wasn’t sure what to expect when I stepped inside, lifting my sunglasses and peering into the near darkness.

There she was, framed by the store’s front windows. The windows were covered with white paper, which blocked everything but the brightest rays of the sun from filtering into the space. It turned her figure into nothing more than a silhouette against a stark white backdrop. Because of that, I couldn’t get a read on her expression when she heard my footsteps and whirled around.

“Oh,” she breathed out, going still.

I waited for more, but the wait was in vain. “That’s all you have to say?” I prompted without bothering to hide my smug satisfaction. There was no such thing as a translation guide when it came to Rose, but I didn’t need one. It was far too easy to see through her.

“Didn’t expect me to show up on time?” I asked, taking my phone from my pocket and tapping the screen. “Looks like I’m five minutes early.” I held the device out to prove myself.

Eventually, she stopped sputtering long enough to retort, “I didn’t hear you come in. That’s all. Don’t put words into my mouth.” She was still deep in shadow, but I would have bet anything her cheeks were tomato red. That was one thing about her I remembered from when we were kids. She blushed at the drop of a hat, never more so than when she was caught lying.

“Trust me.” I began walking around, examining the brick walls but still keeping her in the periphery of my vision. “If I’m going to put something in your mouth, it won’t be words.” She stiffened but didn’t make a sound. “So this is it, huh?” I asked, impressed.

The stately structure had once been a bank before its conversion to a bookstore. It had retained its old-school charm thanks to crown molding, elaborate plasterwork, exposed brick, and gorgeous hardwood floors.

“This is it. In four weeks, it will be a high-end boutique.” Rose slid her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, turning in a slow circle as she surveyed the interior. The wonder etched across her face did nothing to soften my resentment at being dragged out here, but I couldn’t stop watching her.

“You see it in your head, don’t you?” I asked.

“Sure. That’s the only way to make something come true. You have to see it in your head first. Crystal clear, down to the last detail.” She stopped and tipped her head to the side, looking at me as if for the first time. “Don’t you do that?”

She saw me. I didn’t want to be seen, especially when she also had a talent for making me feel small like there was something wrong with me because I didn’t possess her insane work ethic.

“Not unless we’re talking about imagining a three-way with a pair of Italian models. That, I get crystal clear.” I paired my comment with a wink that made her groan.

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