Page 23 of Best Laid Plans

"Yes," she smiled. "Secure Systems is just one of the IT companies we work with. We can evaluate several others to find the one best suited for Sentinel Heights, though."

I felt rage surge through me. I had no right. If she was fucking Beau, that was her business. I was engaged, for Christ's sake—though, right now, seeing Bailey alongside Nova, I couldn't imagine marrying Bailey. She was artificial compared to Nova's genuine warmth. Bailey was good to me—devoted and submissive, but she didn't inspire me, she didn't make me think, she didn't challenge me in or out of bed. Nova would do both. I knew that because she used to do both, impressing me with her intelligence and broad knowledge.

I walked her to her apartment after she finished working at the diner. She asked me what classes I had taken at Yale the previous semester. When I told her, she shocked me by asking, "What do you think about Keynesian economics?"

How did a kid who grew up in a trailer park in Atlanta with a prostitute mother even know who John Maynard Keynes was?

"What do you even know about Keynesian economics?" I challenged.

"Are you condescending me, Anson Larue?" She wasn't angry, just amused.

"Maybe," I admitted. "I'm surprised. You're in high school. I didn't know Keynes from my ass at your age."

She shrugged. "I listen to a lot of Podcasts while I clean, and I find Keynes's theories…worthy."

I had wanted to offer her financial support, and ask her to stop working at the diner and cleaning offices, a job she'd taken over for her mother on the weekends. But that would mean talking about me giving her money, and I wasn't ready to have that discussion. As a Larue, I knew that people took advantage of us and even though she didn't seem the type, I didn't know Nova very well.

"You agree with Keynes?" I was intrigued.

She furrowed her brows in concentration. "Keynes argues that increased government expenditures and lower taxes are the way to stimulate demand, and pull the economy out of a depression, and I do agree with that. But I also worry about creating a dependency on government intervention, leading to long-term issues with debt and market distortion."

"Jesus, Nova, you not only know this stuff, but you've given it some thought."

She grinned. "Hang with me, Anson; I'll teach you a thing or two."

"I have no doubt." I put an arm around her and kissed the side of her head. "You're really something, Sugar. You've got a mind that sees through the surface."

Even now, her intelligence shone through, and just as when I first met her, I found myself irresistibly attracted to her. She was truly glorious. A quick glance at my leadership team confirmed that they were just as impressed—it was hard not to be.

Bailey tapped my shoulder and whispered, "How's it going?"

That question brought the contrast between the two women home.

I hired Bailey to help her out financially. She was used to a particular lifestyle, and when her father died, leaving the family in debt, I decided to step in. I knew she wanted me to write her a check after we got engaged, but that wasn't my style. I didn't believe in giving handouts. I told her I'd give her a job. But lately, I was confronted with the reality that Bailey didn't know how to work, and she and I weren't suited to be together.

"Fine, I'll work now, but not after we're married." She slithered her naked body against mine in her bed.

"What's going to happen after we're married?" I asked, confused.

"I'll have the mansion to manage," she said, then giggled.

She straddled me, stroking my cock. But her statement had sent all my blood to my brain. "We have a housekeeper, Bailey. I expect my wife to work. I want her to have a career, a life that's her own."

She frowned. "But that's not how we do things, Anson. You think Alma will work when she's married?"

Alma did some bullshit volunteer work. She had a trust fund, though I knew she was rapidly going through it since she turned eighteen when she got access to it. She had forgone any part of Larue Homes for a lump sum, as was allowed in my father's will. Since she was confident she'd marry wealthy, she wasn't worried about money. And she knew, push came to shove, I'd take care of her. I would. I had told her to get a job and do something productive with her life, but she wasn't interested. My sister was white privilege and old money entitlement, all wrapped into one big, arrogant mess.

My father had left my mother money, but she had no stake in the family business. That was mine, as was the family estate, the mansion, and the land around it. I'd grown Larue Homes threefold in the years since I'd taken over, and that too, despite the pandemic. I'd worked hard for the life I had and what I was able to provide for my sister and mother. Generational wealth was not going to last lifetimes if each generation didn't do their share to grow it.

"You're not Alma." I put my hands on Bailey's waist and moved her off my body. "I expect you to work, Bailey. We'll sign a prenup, a tight one."

"Anson, I never thought you were cheap."

"And I thought we'd talked about how I can't stand your sense of entitlement."

"Daddy lost the family money. You can't blame me for that," she whined. "But if you could help out with that, we—"

I wanted to break our engagement right then and there. "Bailey, I won't be takin' on your father's debt. I've been clear about that. That's for you and your family to deal with."

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