Page 43 of Consumed By You
“You told me just yesterday that you don’t believe in monogamy, Benjamin. You can’t blame me for being scared to jump into this, as willing as I am to.”
His features, which resemble the sweet curves of a statue, contort with some emotion. I don’t know what it is. Worry? Fear? Shame? Whatever it is, I don’t like it.
“I’m going to try, Darcy.”
I have to believe that.
CHAPTER EIGHT
We eat in muted reticence, and I know this date is not going well. We’ve barely offered more than a few words to one another since being seated. My comments in the car were, as usual, detrimental to his reluctant psyche.
“You know what I’ve always wanted to ask you since I first met you?” I blurt out, hoping to repair the damage.
“What?”
“How did you become so successful at such a young age?”
It’s such a no-brainer question, but I figure it’s got to get him talking. He twirls his thin pasta onto the spoon with his fork, his expression softening as we find a common ground again. “I don’t know. It just happened.”
“You’re being evasive.”
“No, I honestly mean it. It just happened. My father is a pretty prestigious man in Chicago and it helped me meet prestigious people. I met a man who owned a small but profitable company in New York. He asked me to come work for him and I didn’t hesitate. I left.”
It’s just as I expected. He’s a risk-taker. “Your parents were okay with that?”
“I couldn’t care less what my parents think,” he replies and my brows soar upward, startled by his harsh undertone. “I’m sorry. They’re…it’s a sore subject for me.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry. I just want to know more about you.”
“I could say the same.”
I know he’s waiting for my story, but I’m not ready. I don’t know if I ever will be. It seems he’s as hesitant to let me in on his toilsome baggage as I am.
Benjamin sighs, picking up where he left off. “Anyways, I left. He got sick a couple years ago and gifted me the company since he had no children. I expanded it after he died and that’s now Scott Industries.”
I’m stupefied by the fact that he’s continuing to open up to me.
“And literature? Is that something you’ve always felt passionate about?”
Ah, back on comfortable ground.
“Yes. Ever since I was little, I read. It’s honestly my favorite thing to do.”
“What’s your favorite book?”
“Sense and Sensibility, Persuasion.Particularly,Pride and Prejudice. Really anything Austen. I know it’s a cliché, but that’s how the cookie crumbles.”
A broad smile covers his face. “A romantic. I should have guessed.”
“Have you ever read any of them?”
“No, I was supposed to, but I Spark-Noted the paper in high school.”
“So you werethatkid?” Figures, he could use a few pointers from Austen. Most men could.
“What character am I?” he ponders aloud.
I don’t even have to think about it.
