Page 55 of The Billionaire's Accidental Legacy

She stared at him. Then leaned in and stared harder. He leaned back slightly and that satisfied her.

He was just so ridiculous. As if she hadn’t seen him intense.

As if she hadn’t seen him as he really was.

Good girl.

The memory of that kept her up at night. It made her sweaty.

Which was not sexy but it was true.

And whatever with that. She saw him. That was the truth of it.

It was, perhaps, the most real reason he’d run.

And that he’d seen her was the biggest reason she’d sent him away.

“I get that that’s your facade. Or whatever. It doesn’t exactly match up with what I’ve seen of you, though. You like to play the fool. But I knew the minute I sat down across from you at that poker game that you weren’t a fool. I knew the first time I saw you in the casino. Your eyes are too intelligent.”

“I’m amazed to hear that you think anyone is intelligent. Given what I know about your gifts.”

She shrugged. “It’s not a gift. It’s a tool. And it isn’t intelligence. Just the way my brain is wired. I don’t take any particular pride in it, though I have used it, and will continue to use it. I’ll be able to remember every stage of our child’s development with perfect ease. You know, I wonder about... I have heard so much about the way nostalgia turns memories hazy. I wonder sometimes what that would be like. To let things grow soft so that you can gain a different perspective on them. I never can. I only ever have the perspective I had at the moment. Because I remember everything I saw at that moment. Everything I felt. It robs you of something, I think. Though there are many things that you gain on top of it. I’m not complaining. But I do think that it wouldn’t... It’s not beneficial for me to be too full of myself about all that. It just isn’t.”

“That’s an interesting perspective. I never thought of it. But I will tell you the memories of my childhood have never grown gauzy. I have never been infused with nostalgia. What was confusing to me as a child is confusing as an adult. And even if I’ve tried to sort out what it all means now, I find that I’m unable to.”

“Well. That’s disappointing. I sort of liked imagining that there were people out there who had it together.”

“I have certain things together, that’s for certain. And there is something blessed in allowing anonymous evenings to turn into a blur. But our night together never has.”

“I suppose I shouldn’t be pleased about that,” she said.

“You can be pleased about it if you want.”

“Then I will be pleased about it. And I will remember that you told me I could be pleased about it for the rest of my life.” She didn’t bother to hold back the small smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth. “But don’t feel too excited about that. After all, I can’t forget anything.”

“Yes, of course. I promise not to let it go to my head.”

“Why Paris?”

A flutter of excitement began to take off in her stomach and it made her feel more than she would like. She had never been to Paris. There had never been a reason to go.

She had spent most of her childhood in the United States until her father moved them to London. Likely running from the law.

But they had never gotten out to see the world. She had traveled since then. She and her sister, running their cons, but it had been to specific places where gambling was a feature. And for the most part, that wasn’t major metropolitan areas. Not mainstream ones anyway.

She’d been to Las Vegas more times than she could count. But never Paris.

And she ached with the knowledge that she would go now. With him.

She shut that off. She enjoyed the meal that was served on the plane, and then she went and reclined on the bed for a while, just because she could. When they landed at the airport, they were swept immediately into a luxury car that drove them through the beautiful streets. The architecture was glorious. All stone scrollwork and famous glories. The Eiffel Tower. The Arc de Triomphe. She committed everything to memory. Every detail. She wanted to remember this. Forever. She loved it. She realized that she had her face and palms pressed to the glass on the window. And she felt mildly embarrassed. But not enough to stop. Because these would be her memories. Her chosen memories of this moment.

Paris and all its glory.

“Is it everything you hoped?”

She shot him a shady side eye. “How do you know I’ve never been here before?”

“You look far too eager for someone who remembers everything. And anyway, you look as if you’re trying to save this forever.”

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