"Come on, what’s the real reason you’re single?" she presses on.
"Not discussing that."
"Play along. Just let me in a little, and in turn, I’ll answer anything you want to know." She smiles adoringly, batting her eyelashes.
Her offer is enticing. I wouldn’t mind getting deeper inside her head. If she wants the truth, I’ll fill her in. "In my experience women are interested in two things. Money and power."
She opens her mouth to protest and I hold up a hand stopping her. "You wanted to know."
She motions for me to continue, then folds her hands in her lap.
"You can argue all you want, but I’m not just speaking about the women in my life. It’s biology. Have you ever studied evolutionary science?" She shakes her head. "Women are looking for the biggest, baddest caveman out there - a provider to protect her and her offspring. It’s simple science."
She seems to accept my line of thinking and I continue, after taking another swig of my drink.
"They want a well-hung, devoted husband whose wealth can afford them the type of lifestyle they dream of. He works all day, slaving away to make a living while his trophy bride is fucking the pool boy." Or gardener, as it were. A kid barely out of high school who wouldn’t know what to do with his dick in his hand. "She has everything she ever dreamed of, but she gets bored spending her darling husband’s money all day and soon needs a new toy – something fun and dangerous to distract herself with. If it’s not the pool boy, then its pain pills and wine-spritzers at ten am. Trust me, Sophie, this is the world I grew up in. I know it well."
That last comment has her looking at me like she’s wondering about my own upbringing. Actually, my mom was so in love with my dad she never strayed, as far as I knew, and she passed away much too early. My dad was unfortunately the philanderer who couldn’t keep from humping his secretary. Just another reason why I don’t believe in the sanctity of marriage. I’ve seen it fucked six ways from Sunday.
I’d done everything I could think of to make Stella happy. The finest clothes, expensive jewels, flashy cars, taking her on dream vacations, yet nothing made her truly happy. Even coming home from work early to surprise her – she’d complain that I was interrupting her afternoon ritual. It left me messed in the head. I couldn’t do a thing right where women were concerned. Except in the bedroom. I never had any complaints there.
"Men think women are complex – and they are – but for the most part, they want to be left the fuck alone with his credit card." I drop my napkin to the table and push away my plate, my appetite vanishing.
Her posture straightens. "That’s not true at all. Maybe for some women – some horrible, deceitful women, but for most, they want passion, to be desired, loved and cherished." Her voice drops, going all whisper soft, and I realize she’s giving me a glimpse at what she herself desires from a mate.
"Can I ask you a question?" I say.
She nods.
"When you asked if I regretted bringing you here…do you regret going to the auction? Coming home with me?"
"No." Her voice is sure, steady. "I did what I had to do for my sister, and…" She drops her chin to her chest like she doesn’t want to continue.
I lift her chin with two fingers and force her eyes back up to mine. "Tell me."
She swallows, the long column of her throat moving in a pretty way. "This is going to sound weird."
"Try me."
She draws a deep breath and releases it slowly. "I’ve never had the luxury of time and space like this before – something just for me."
I can see what she means. Sleeping in and jogging and swimming every day has been good for her. Her skin is kissed in a sunbathed glow and her body is equal parts relaxed and toned. It’s a look that suits her.
Sophie fishes the lemon slice from her water glass and brings it to her lips, sucking the sour juice in the most distracting way. Fuuuck.
She sets the lemon slice down. Thank God. And continues. "I was always the twin sister of the girl who had cancer. I never had my own identity. And even though I’m not there yet, this time away has given me some much needed perspective. It’s like there is life beyond hospital rooms and the crippling stress. It’s making me see that I wasn’t even truly living before. And I should be. If Becca’s illness has taught me anything, it’s that life can be taken away from you in an instant. I’ve been wasting mine. And even though I don’t know what’s next, I know I don’t want to continue to live like I was."
It’s deeper than I intended her to go, but I like hearing all of her inner thoughts. "What else?" I ask.
"I want to have a career I’m passionate about, I want to fall in love, travel the world, make lasting friendships…You know, basically conquer the world and have the best life ever. I hope Becca is right alongside me, but even if I have to go it alone, I will. For her." She smiles sadly up at me.
"Sounds like a brilliant plan. Let me know how I can help."
***
After dinner, I head over to Collins’ place for a mid-week drink with my brothers, needing the distraction. My cock feels like it’s about to explode every time I’m in the same room as Sophie.
I find them sitting outside by the pool, a bottle of expensive bourbon sitting on the table between them. Seems like I’m not the only one having a long week.
I slide into the lounge chair and Pace hands me a glass, filling it generously with liquor. "Bottoms up, baby."
"What’s the occasion?" I ask.
Collins shrugs. "Tatianna’s talking about wanting an engagement ring. Leaving pictures of huge diamond rings all over the damn house."
"And?" I hadn’t realized their relationship was all that serious, even though she’s lived with him for about six months now. I figured it was more a relationship of convenience. When they started dating, she needed a place to stay, and he needed regular sex. Problem solved.
He looks down into his glass thoughtfully. "How are things going with the roomie?" Collins asks instead of answering.
"Fine."
"And how’s her job search going?"
"Good."
Collins rolls his eyes. My one word responses aren’t going to fly with him. He started it though by dodging my question about Tatianna.
"Have you fucked her yet?" Pace asks, much less tactfully.