Page 52 of Locke

She chuckles.“Oh, I know you’re going to tell me the truth.”

“And how would you know that?”

“Because you’re already honest in your desire to not let anyone in.The fact you’re agreeing to a tiny peek means you’re willing to show me the truth.”

“Hmm.”I take the chair and slouch backward, stretching one leg out to the side.

The chairs are close enough we could touch and I can’t help but think of the fact my hand was between her legs last night and she came on my fingers.

I wonder if she’s thinking about that.

She uncaps her pen.“Let’s get down to business.”Apparently not.“First, I want to thank you for coming.”

“We had a deal.”

“We did.”She looks at me with steady calm.“I want to start somewhere simple.Tell me about where you grew up.”

I look her directly in the eye so she can see I’m engaged.“You already know… Boston.”

“What part?”

“Beacon Hill.”

She scribbles some notes.I have no idea what there is to write about Beacon Hill but what do I know.“Tell me about your family home.”

“Four floors.Brownstone.Been in my father’s family for three generations.”

“So, old money.”

“Yes.”

She nods, makes another note.“Tell me about your father.”

I shift in the chair.“He manages the family holdings.Investments, real estate, a few legacy business interests.He’s good at it.”

“Meaning he devoted a lot of time to it.”

“Meaning it was what he did.”I keep my voice even.“It’s what the men in this family do.You take the helm when it’s passed to you and you run it.That’s the expectation and he met it.”

“Are you going to take the helm one day?”she asks, and that surprises me.

Not one single person has ever asked me that question, not even my father.

“That would be a no,” I say with a caustic laugh.

“Because it doesn’t interest you?”she asks.

“Because I don’t interest my father,” I clarify.

She studies me, tapping her pen on her notebook.“Surely you know my next question… why wasn’t he interested in you?”

“You’d have to ask him that,” I tell her sincerely.“I personally have never had a meaningful conversation with him where I could figure out why he had no interest in his son.”

Livia’s chin pulls inward and I can see the empathy on her face.“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I reply, holding her gaze.

“Do you have siblings?Were they more to his interest?”