Page 47 of A Man of Wealth

“We’re good,” I say as I lean back in the seat and look over at him. His profile is…perfection. Even now, as I sit contemplating everything happening, I can’t deny that this man makes me want to throw away my current life for five more minutes with him. I grimace. I may be doing that tonight. I know I forced his hand by demanding to be here. I know he doesn’t want me here. But I’ll be damned if he finishes what we started without me.

“Conner?”

He glances over at me and frowns. “What?”

“How did you not see this coming? How did you not know?” I ask. I can see his brows furrow as he considers my question.

“What was I supposed to know, Vivienne?”

I swallow. Is he pissed that I’ve asked the one-million-dollar question? Does Mr. High and Mighty not like being called out?

“You have to know the brotherhood stops at nothing to get what they want.”

“I know.”

“So why the fuck didn’t you try to stop them before? Or were they too helpful to you before, so you just let crimes go?”

His knuckles whiten as his grip tightens on the steering wheel. I’ve struck a nerve.

“Is this investigative journalist Vivienne asking?”

I roll my eyes. Of course, he goes there. “No, this is Vivienne, the woman you’re sleeping with and who is about to risk her life alongside you to bring down a secret society that’s apparently killing young women for sport.”

He looks back at me again. “I swear to you, Vivienne, I didn’t know it was at this level. When you’re a kid and you join a group, you don’t fully comprehend it. And then when I did, I knew, I just knew they were responsible for my mother’s death. I know what they’ve done, but it’s always been about members and the people they love. Never was it about innocent people that are in no way connected to us.”

“Oh, so you did know?”

He makes a sound that’s halfway between a sigh and a groan. “Fuck! You don’t understand. I can’t get out of this. There is only one way out. Do you understand? Doing this”—his hand motions around us—“is the ultimate betrayal. I don’t mean what we’re doing. Certain members are taking their power and using it in ways it should never be used. If we can’t stop that within our own organization, then any good, any inkling of good that comes of our vows is a farce. I’ve done fucked-up shit, Vivienne. I’m not proud of that, but I will be damned if I let innocent people die because I was a coward. That’s where I draw the line.”

“Maybe the people you love would want you to draw the line before them?”

His face now looks like he’s five seconds away from strangling me.

“I’ve been truthful to you. I also know my mother was aware that my father was involved in…criminal behavior, but she chose to stay.”

“That doesn’t mean that she chose to die!” I yell.

He slams a fist on the steering wheel and I jump.

“Fuck! Vivienne! I’m trying to make this right! We are trying to fix it. Should we have tried earlier? Maybe. But here we are. Will that ever be enough for you? Will I ever be enough for you?”

I’m shocked and silent as his words reverberate around the car. Can I forgive him for his sins? Is he asking me to? I swallow because his question is the most honest one he’s asked of me. I consider my answer. Have I been a saint? No. If I was given a green pass to success, would I have taken it as a young adult? Yes. Can I forgive him for overlooking things that were so obvious because he chose to turn a blind eye until now? That one I struggle with, but I know my answer. I may not like my answer. I may question my own morals for my answer. Conner Sterling isn’t a bad man. He can be an asshole. He can be a control freak. But deep down, he’s not a bad man.

“Yes. You…are enough,” I whisper. I watch his shoulders relax and his jaw unclench.

I put my hand on his. He looks down at our joined hands and moves his. At first, I’m hurt by his action until I realize he wants his on top. I bite my lip to keep from smiling. How am I smiling after that intense conversation? Will our relationship always be this passionate and full of extremes?

He lifts my hand to his lips and plants a kiss on it before setting them back down on the center console where he absentmindedly strokes my thumb with his. He chuckles when he looks over at me.

“Admit it,” he says.

“Admit what?”

“Admit that you like me being controlling.”

I glare at him. “Only when it comes to one thing,” I confess with a smirk.

He laughs again and shrugs. “I’ll take my wins where I can.”

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