Page 46 of Rosabel and the Billionaire Beast

“Looks like we’re expected at my parents’ place,” he finally said guardedly.

“We? As in both of us?”

Chatter came from the kitchen, along with the sound of something clattering on the stove. One of the women muttered and then laughed before the sound died down.

“Yes,” he said, facing me. “You are included in the invitation. Might as well get it over with.”

“Does that mean you won’t be ready for dinner?” Pat’s head peeked around the barrier wall, and she asked her question before I managed to formulate mine.

“Sorry, no,” he said. “We’ll have to eat when we get back.”

“No problem, no problem,” she said good-naturedly, disappearing once more and leaving the two of us to finish talking. It was too bad—whatever they were cooking smelled delicious. My stomach gave a little grumble.

“Get what over with?” I asked, returning to where he’d left off.

Duncan didn’t answer. Instead, he was halfway to the door, texting someone as he went. I assumed the recipient was Clive, since he was how we would get there.

I just loved being ignored. I was tempted to dig in my heels. I didn’t really need to go, did I? Except he was kind of paying me to.

That wasn’t the only reason I decided to humor him. Pity seeped through the cracks in my armor. Duncan had tensed up again during the call with his mother. For some reason, seeing his family again unnerved him. And for yet another unknown-to-me reason, I didn’t want to let him face them alone.

Was that why he wanted me to come? And why was he so nice to his staff? He’d said sorry just now—a word I never thought I’d hear from him.

That wasn’t the worst thing that bothered me, though. It was the obvious discrepancy. Why was he nice to these women who worked for him, but not to me?

“You coming?” he asked, pausing at the door long enough to peer back at me. “You don’t have to. You can just come to the party, if you want. I just thought…”

Whatever he thought, he didn’t finish.

I could decline, I supposed. But I’d told him I’d be there for him, and I was true to my word.

“Give me a second,” I said.

I rushed upstairs for my phone, grateful that I’d worn cute jeans and a nice shirt and cardigan to travel in. I gave my appearance a once-over, shot Sarah a quick text to check in on Dad, and dashed out to join Duncan in the car.

Get it over with, sure. I wasn’t sure what made him so reluctant to see his family again, but whatever the cause, I wasn’t all that eager to meet them, either.

TWELVE

rosabel

These mountain roadswere going to kill me.

I attempted to keep my attention on the solid white line on the roadside. Having a singular focus helped to abate my queasiness somewhat, but it still festered in my stomach. Much like my thoughts were doing in my brain.

It was just the same old worries and wonderings I’d had since we left the lake house. About Duncan’s staff, his change around them, his family. A whole bucketful of questions.

We passed a few hotels when an old-fashioned trolley pulled into the parking lot of some kind of depot. Startling, I planted a hand on the seat between Duncan and me, not realizing his hand was also resting there. The touch of his skin startled us both—but I recovered faster.

“What’s with you?”

“A trolley?” I muttered.

“You act like you’ve never seen one before.”

“Because I haven’t!” Not aside from pictures of old movies. The sight triggered my typical love of old things, giving me a weird craving to track one down and ride in it.

Trolleys were a thing of the past, and that meant I loved them instantly. I twisted around in my seat, hoping for a betterlook when the sight of something else tore me from my thoughts completely.

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