Page 113 of Burning Deceptions
“So is this your family money or what you’ve earned—I mean, made.” Fuck, I didn’t want to insult him, but how should I ask if he bought these with money he worked for without making it sound like I was calling him out for being born rich?
Luke smiled and moved to hug me from behind. “I knew what you meant,” he said as if reading my worry. Maybe it had been a good idea to hold off this surprise until we got to know each other better. I’d have been a nervous wreck had I known exactly how big those snooty britches were at the beginning.
“The titles to these are under the Dorset Trust. Not technically mine yet, but I treat them as if they already were. These are part of my inheritance. I already manage them and grow the investment.”
I chuckled and snuggled into him. “I’m not that far into my degree.”
Luke sat his chin on my shoulder, and we kept walking slowly, staying hugged together. “You’ve heard it takes money to make money, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Same thing, basically.”
“Your wine collection?”
“Another investment. Its worth isn’t quite as high yet, but it’s in my name only.”
“What’s the difference in stuff in your family trust versus your own name?”
“I’m a beneficiary, not the trustee. As long as my parents approve of the investment, I can grow the fund how I see fit. The wine collection, my Range Rover, my loft, all of those are in my name. I have complete control. I could burn it to the ground if I wanted to.”
“Your insurance company might have something to say about it.”
Luke laughed. “See, you get it.”
“My uncle Gene is in insurance.”
“Not a cousin?”
I elbowed his stomach. “Those cousins have parents.”
“I was beginning to wonder.”
We made it back to the front, and then Luke turned us to face them all.
“Can I take a picture of them?”
He chuckled and kissed the side of my neck. “Sure, but how about driving one?”
I blinked as I ran those words through my head a few times. Yeah, they meant what I thought he meant. “Are you serious?”
“Can you drive a manual transmission?”
I nodded.
“Then take your pick.” Luke stepped away and rocked on his heels.
“This is crazy,” I breathed but thought about it. How could I pick one? A voice said to pick the Shelby, but it seemed taboo for some reason. Instead, I stopped in front of a McLaren.
“This one?” Luke asked. “Not the Shelby.”
I peered at the classic, but nah. “I can’t bring myself to do it.” I pointed at the 765LT with a bright-ass green paint job and a custom rainbow design near the rear fender. It probably wasn’t a rainbow, technically, but the multicolored stripes reminded me of one. “What’s this one worth?”
“Last I checked, nearly five hundred grand.”
“You like it?”
“I like them all, or I wouldn’t have invested in them.”
