Page 38 of Scarlett and the Big Bad Billionaire
The current had reverberated out from my chest to all my extremities, waking them from the state of numbness they’d been in the past few years.
Even my dick had come out of a coma—I’d awakened several times during the past few nights with a hard-on, fragments of dreams starring Scarlett still in the corners of my half-awake mind.
She followed me into the main gallery at Indigo Point, setting up her laptop on a table in one corner of the room where she could keep an eye on me while she worked.
Watch all you want, darlin’. As if I’m going to stash a Renoir in my jacket and walk out of here.
With Victoria’s trusting nature and the unlimited access I’d had to her house these past few months, I could have robbed her a thousand times over.
Of course I wouldn’t take so much as a stick of gum from the woman without asking.
For one thing, I wasn’t a criminal. For another, I had more money of my own than I could ever spend in a lifetime—or several.
I did like seeing this protective streak in Scarlett, though. It went a long way toward assuring meshewas here for the right reasons and could be trusted to look out for the family matriarch in her waning years.
Unless she was just looking out forherself, which was still a possibility. As Victoria’s only living descendant, her granddaughter was in line to inherit a fortune someday.
I didn’t want to think the woman I’d spent that unforgettable week with three years ago was capable of being so cold-hearted, but ithadbeen three years. I knew all too well how much could change in that span of time.
Walking the perimeter of the room, I made note of each item and prioritized them in order of value for the auction Victoria had asked me to plan.
When I got close to Scarlett’s spot, I decided to test the waters.
“Victoria has a pretty sweet collection, huh?” I asked.
Scarlett looked up briefly then back at her laptop screen. “I guess so. I’m not really that into art.”
“Why not?”
She lifted her shoulders and let them fall. “I’ve always thought of it as kind of… snooty.”
I barked a laugh. “Snooty? A lot of people would say art is subversive, which is pretty much the opposite of snooty.”
“I guess it depends on the art,” Scarlett said. “I’ve never really been able to afford any, so I guess I wouldn’t know.”
“Well, there’s art available at every price level. And some of it’s free, like public installations and street art.”
“What are you, the Rhode Island Ambassador for the Arts?” she asked.
That set me back on my feet a bit. I needed to tone it down about my favorite subject.
I moderated my voice. “It’s an interest of mine. It’s one of the things that connected me with Victoria. How’s it going with you two?”
Scarlett glanced up from her laptop again. “Great. We’re having fun, finding a lot to talk about. I did her video exercise class with her today—completely kicked my butt.”
“She’s a hoot, isn’t she? I told you she was fun.”
“She is.” Scarlett hesitated before going on. “She says you’ve been coming by almost every day of the week over the past few months to share a meal, or change the batteries on her remote, or play a game of cards.”
“Yeah, she may look like a sweet old lady, but when it comes to Rummy, she’s a pirate.”
Scarlett gave me an appraising glance that fairly screamed,Areyoua pirate?
“I still have a hard time believing you could care so much about an old woman you met less than a year ago and aren’t related to,” she said.
The accusatory words got under my skin like a bee sting.
“I have a hard time believing you could care so little about someone youarerelated to. You’ve gone twenty years without a word of contact then suddenly want to reconnect? If you’re accusing me of trawling for a sugar-momma—or sugar-grandma—you can stop worrying. I don’t need the money. Do you?”
