Trillion - Winter Renshaw Page 0,29
me, I’m sure.
“Would you like to see more?” he asks when the path veers back to where we started.
I read once that the Westcott mansion has nearly two hundred rooms and nearly twenty-thousand square feet. A full tour would take days.
“You don’t have to do that,” I say. “I’m sure you’re anxious to get back to the office …”
“Clearly you don’t know me very well. When I give my time and attention to something, I give it fully. I’ve set aside this time for you, Sophie. I cleared my schedule for you.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel special?” I’m teasing. Sort of.
“You don’t need anyone to make you feel special,” he says as we walk toward one of the many doors on the back of the stone palace. “And you know this or you wouldn’t have turned down my offer.”
It’s more complicated than that.
“I don’t want to be married to someone I don’t love,” I say. “And I would never bring children into a loveless marriage. Not for all the money in the world. It’s not right.”
“Maybe you’re thinking of it all wrong. Maybe you should focus on all the good you could do with that money. Or the fact that the child would be loved by both parents, cared for the rest of its life in every way imaginable.”
“Would you love it?” I ask. “Knowing that it was nothing more than a component of a contract? Something you bought and paid for?”
He stops for a moment, turning to me, brows furrowed. “Of course I would love my own flesh and blood, Sophie. What kind of question is that?”
We step inside, greeted by a dark hall lined with dim sconces.
“I don’t understand why you can’t just find someone else,” I say. “You must have millions of prospects.”
“Dating is different for me. I can’t just swipe right on an app and meet someone for drinks and hope things will take off organically.”
“But have you ever tried?”
He laughs through his nose. “I’ve never used an app, but I’ve dated in the past.”
“And?”
“Preconceived notions tend to get in the way before any of it has a chance to evolve into something meaningful,” he says. “I realize this arrangement I’m proposing is as unromantic as it is unconventional, but at least I’m being upfront from the start. You know my expectations, what I want and what I need. And you know what you’ll be getting out of it. This way we can both avoid disappointment.”
He leads me to a room with soaring gold-leaf ceilings, a forest green billiards table, a marble chess set, and a wall of books two stories high.
He flicks on the lights. “I’m not buying your heart, Sophie. And I’m certainly not trying to sell you on mine.”
“Kind of seems like you are …”
“That’s only because you don’t know me … yet.” He turns to face me, pausing to drink me in. “Why don’t you stay the rest of the afternoon? Tonight we can have dinner. And after that, I’ll take you to the conservatory. There’s a meteor shower later and the view from up there is second to none.”
While he claims this isn’t about love or forming an everlasting connection, the evening he’s suggesting sounds like a date. I’m seconds from declining his offer when the words get stuck, lodged by curiosity.
“Why do you need a wife and kid anyway?” I ask. “What do you get out of it?”
Without hesitation, he says, “I’m in the process of procuring a rather large business deal and the seller insists on maintaining its family-operated business reputation. He won’t sell it to me unless I settle down. His words.”
“So none of this is because you’re secretly lonely and you want someone to share your life with?”
“Would it make a difference if I were?”
I contemplate my answer. At least he’s being honest—I think. There’s no way to tell when someone’s being real or fake, though I thought I knew the difference once upon a time.
“I guess not,” I say.
“So will you stay for dinner?”
Despite the lump in my throat and the voice in my head reminding me that my mind is already made up and all of this is a giant waste of time … I nod.
“Sure,” I say.
And against my better judgement, I stay.
Seventeen
Trey
Present
A blanket of stars shine through a pristine glass ceiling of the conservatory. I leave the lights off, of course, and take Sophie by the hand, leading her to the center of the room where my staff has prepared an