Page 2 of Overnight Inheritance

He coughed out a laugh. “Better than the alternative, though. Besides, you get used to it.”

Mae noted that he included himself in that group, which made sense. “Which type are you? Waiting to be betrayed or waiting for requests for cash?”

Sebastian Newport’s face heated at the comparison of him to the Rutherford family and their friends.

“I’m nothing like them,” he said with more intensity than he had intended.

“Strange,” she said in her cute Australian accent. “You have a house in the Hamptons that you’re using for a weekend and an apartment in New York as well. I dare say that it’s unlikely you’re on the poverty line. So this conversation is either about you waiting for me to prey on you, or...”

“Or?” he prompted through a tight jaw when she didn’t continue.

“Or I’m the one who should be wary of you.”

“You think I arranged this meeting to prey on you?” He’d been pacing in his own backyard, trying to wind down after the rush to get out of the city and then settle his infant son, Alfie. Once Alfie was asleep, Sebastian had poured himself a generous scotch and, baby monitor in hand, walked outside. Weekends always involved a fight with himself—he hated being so far from work, and his instincts shouted that he needed to be available, weekend or not, but he’d promised his late wife that he’d find more of a work-life balance for Alfie’s sake. And deathbed promises were hard to break. So, during the week, his son was primarily cared for by a live-in nanny, while Sebastian devoted himself to long days at the office, and on weekends, it was just the two of them, here, at their holiday home. The last thing he’d been thinking about when he walked out here was meeting a woman through the shrubbery.

“Maybe you didn’t set this meeting up, but your own theory means that everything at parties is transactional or avoiding it becoming transactional.”

He chuckled. “Touché. But you forget. I’m not at your party.”

“Which puts this conversation outside your theory.”

Sebastian sank his free hand deep into his trouser pocket. “It’s almost outside reality.”

“Sounds about right,” she said, her tone dry. “My whole life is practically outside reality at the moment.”

He hesitated. She might think this was an anonymous encounter, but he’d guessed her identity from her first few words. The lost heirs of the Bellavista fortune, Heath and Mae Rutherford, were all anyone in their world was talking about, and he’d heard his neighbor Sarah was hosting a party for Mae tonight. Add her Australian accent to the equation, and her confusion about how this circle of society worked, and there was no one else this could be but Mae Rutherford.

He was low-key uncomfortable that their encounter in the darkness was anonymous only on one side, but he was enjoying talking to her and wasn’t sure she’d continue if she knew who he was. Her aunt and brother must not have warned her that the other major stakeholder in the company they’d inherited owned the house next door, or she’d have been wary. Hell, she’d probably have ignored him from the start. But he meant her no harm. In fact, talking to her was the most fun he’d had with another adult in a long time. She was like a breath of fresh air, and he sorely needed one of those right now.

“Why weren’t you invited?” she asked. “Didn’t Sarah know you’d be here for the weekend?”

He sipped his drink before replying, “There’s some history.” That was true, even if it was an understatement. “We generally avoid each other now. But I hear she throws excellent parties.”

“It’s great, but...this is going to sound stupid.”

“Go on,” he said, trying to sound encouraging.

“I really don’t know how to enjoy myself in there. With all those people.”

He remembered being in the same position when he’d started attending society parties as a teenager, and he was hit with a wave of sympathy. She’d likely hate him when she found out who he was, and there was nothing he could do about that. Until that happened, though, one thing he could do for Mae Rutherford was share the insight he’d gained as a teen.

“All those people are showing you a facade,” he said. “They’ve worked out how they want other people and the world to see them and they’ve slipped that mask on before arriving. All you need to do is work out what mask you want to wear. What face do you want to show them?”

“What if I don’t know the answer?” The words emerging from the hedge between them were tentative. Vulnerable.

“Maybe start with working out what you want, and go from there.” He rolled his shoulders, feeling the weekday stress beginning to recede.

“You mean what I want out oflife? That’s a pretty broad question.”

“True.” He watched the blinking lights of a plane crossing the night sky, giving her a moment to process her thoughts. “Do you know the answer?”

“Not really,” she admitted on a sigh.

He couldn’t imagine not knowing something as basic as your life’s direction. He’d had his entire life planned out when he was still in elementary school. Mind you, curveballs, such as his wife dying just over three years into their marriage, had made him start to wonder if he was really in charge of his own destiny after all. For now, though, he was focused on Mae.

“I’m going to suggest that you have some resources behind you if you’re at one of Sarah Rutherford’s parties and you have possible contacts in the other guests. What do you want from that?”

A twig snapped in the shrubs, in roughly the same place her voice was coming from. “Why do I have to want something from it?” she asked, sounding a little annoyed.

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