Page 72 of The Reluctant Billionaire

‘Also things like… reputation. Shame. Pride. Dignity. Values. Codes of conduct. When you don’t have much, you live and die by how you act. Poverty can make people strong and resilient, but often it brings out the worst in humanity, too. That neighbourhood I grew up in was just petty. No one wanted to see anyone else doing better than them. Getting out. It wasn’t fair. It was resented.’

She purses her lips. ‘So you’re saying you had nothing but your roots, and who you were and who your family was informed your whole identity, and tough shit if you didn’t like that identity because you didn’t feel you had the right—or maybe even the currency—to change any of it? Nor did you feel you could leave?’

I laugh, but there’s no mirth in it. ‘Something like that, yeah.’

‘Fuck, that’s depressing. It’s like the songCommon People.’

That makes me grin properly. ‘If I’m Jarvis Cocker, you know who you are in that song, right?’

‘Fuck off. But also,obviously.’ Her fingers run up and down my arm. ‘Where’s your dad now? I haven’t heard you mention him.’

‘He died a few years ago.’

She really does have the most expressive eyes. Face. The way she’s looking at me almost undoes me.

‘It’s okay. He was sick for a long time. Got sick after my brother, Pete, was born. MS. He couldn’t work. Not really.’ I let out a heavy sigh. ‘Mum was a nurse, but she also took care of Dad until I was old enough to help.’

Her beautiful dark eyes narrow. ‘Wait. You were your dad’s carer?’

I exhale. I really do not want to make a big deal out of it. ‘Yeah, but not full-time. They never let me miss any school. But Mum’s shifts were all over the place, so yeah, when I was older I had to step up so she could earn her salary. Even then, she ended up going down to part time because it all just got too much once Dad lost the use of his legs.’

‘Jesus,’ she groans. ‘Is that why you used to go to the community centre?’

‘It got us out of Mum’s hair when she was at home,’ I say, ‘and when she was at work, it meant she knew we could pop down there for dinner and not go hungry. Judy is a living saint. That woman was like a second mother to me.’

‘I’m glad you had her,’ Lotta says softly. ‘Thanks for telling me. I’m sorry you had a shitty time of it.’

‘It wasn’t unhappy,’ I say, anxious to make her understand. ‘It was just… stressful. I worried about stuff that I wouldn’t want my kids worrying about, and I saw my mum upset a lot. I’d never want that, either. But honestly, I’m amazed she didn’t fall to pieces. It was a lot for her to deal with. She’s so fucking strong.’

‘It must be amazing to know you can look after her now,’ she says, and I roll my eyes.

‘You’d think so, right? But she’s also fucking stubborn. And she refused to move away from this area. So she’s in a better house, but it’s nowhere near as nice as I’d like her to have.’

‘I mean, I get that,’ Lotta muses. ‘If she’s raised her family here, she’s probably got strong ties. Roots, even.’

‘Yeah, but I don’t think she’s staying purely for the right reasons. Sure, she knows this place—she didn’t want to start from scratch, which I get. But it’s also that shame thing again. She’s super proud of me, but when the neighbours start whispering about how Veronica Duffy’s getting too big for her boots because her son was on the news, or on breakfast TV, or any of that crap?

‘Her way of dealing with that is to show them she’s exactly who she’s always been, and she’s not going to put on airs and graces just because I’m doing well for myself. I swear to God, every working class person I grew up with seems to be terrified of putting onairs and graces, which is what I would call self-improvement or dreaming big, and it really fucks me off.’

Lotta’s quiet for a moment. Then she says, ‘Well, that’s shitty for her, because she’s kind of cutting off her nose to spite her face, but it must be really hard for you, too. I bet it makes you a lot more conflicted about what you’ve achieved than you’d probably like to be.’

I lie there and drink her in. The dark tendrils of hair curling over her neck. Her shoulder. That jaw-dropping face, its full lips parted and huge eyes fixed on me. Her extraordinary beauty makes it tempting to dismiss her as anything more than a stunning facade, but I’ve begun to think differently for a while now.

‘You nailed it,’ I say more lightly than I feel.

‘I mean, you do seem to have alotof airs and graces.’

I laugh. ‘I should probably work on being less of a poncy twat.’

She smiles at me, and it’s breathtaking. ‘You’re definitely too big for your boots. Maybe it’s time to remember your roots.’

‘She rhymes, too,’ I mutter.

‘Seriously. Do they give you shit for it? Or maybe it’s justyougiving yourself shit for it. There’s no way it’s easy to make the kind of money you’ve made and not have it raise a bit of existential angst.’

‘All of the above,’ I say, tugging her against me. She throws a long leg over my thigh and nestles closer.

‘Poor little rich boy. Do you have a therapist?’

---