Page 23 of In the Heir (Westerly Billionaire 1)
“Twelve thousand dollars.” The woman handed her the box.
“Thousand.” Alisha choked and crushed the sides of the box in her hands. “Thousand?”
“Yes. Is that a problem?”
Only if that’s half of what you have in the bank. She almost handed the box back to the woman. To a man like Brett Westerly, $12,000 was probably equivalent to twelve of her dollars. I’ll still pay him back, but in installments until I’m fifty. “No, everything is wonderful. Thank you.”
Only everything wasn’t wonderful.
After instructing the limo driver to take her home, Alisha opened the box and ran her hand over the dress. Just like Brett, it had been too tempting to say no to.
Thank God I’m leaving tomorrow.
Or I’d be taking more than this dress home with me.
And then where would I be?
On his way home from work, Brett stopped by the third shop, the one Alisha had declined. He’d written the name of a department store on the list, but the limo driver had been instructed to take her to the jewelry store next to it. A phone call would have been enough to have the present delivered to his office or apartment, but he was feeling restless, and the errand would keep him from driving to Alisha’s home to see her.
He had a plan now. He’d been reluctant to take any advice from Alessandro or Victor, but they had compelling arguments for each suggestion they put forth. At first Brett had held back details of his reasons for seeing Alisha. He wasn’t proud of how he’d offered her money, but her refusal was significant, so he ended up sharing that story as well.
When he’d finished talking, Alessandro had looked at Victor and said, “She sounds like a good girl. I don’t think we should get involved unless he’s serious about her.”
Victor had given Brett a stern look. “Do you see yourself marrying this woman?”
“I don’t see myself marrying anyone,” Brett had answered honestly.
Victor cut a hand through the air. “Then we want nothing to do with this.”
Relieved, Brett had said, “I’ll muddle through it myself, I guess.”
Alessandro had stood, paced, then come to stand over Brett. “Describe Alisha in five words. Don’t think about it. Just tell me the first five words that come to you when you hear her name.”
Easy. Brett had said, “Brave. Resilient. Funny. Beautiful. Loyal.”
Victor had nodded in approval. “You respect her. That’s the foundation all good marriages are built on.”
“I’m not getting married.”
Not giving much credit to Brett’s declaration, Alessandro said, “When you marry, Brett, only do so with a woman you also consider your friend. A lover leaves you if your finances change or your health takes a turn. They are there for the pleasure only.”
Brett groaned, already regretting that he’d shared as much with them as he had. “Thank you for the sage advice, but as I said—”
Victor clapped his hands together once. “Okay, we will help you, but be generous with your wedding invitations when it comes to our family. We prefer to include the children. It’s important that they are a part of these things, you understand?”
“Absolutely.” Brett had promised because, as far as he was concerned, it wasn’t going to happen. He wanted to be with Alisha, get to know her better, date her, possibly have a long-term relationship with her—but none of that changed his lack of faith in the institution of marriage.
Alessandro had sat down again and said, “Brett, winning a woman is not complicated. I don’t care if you are trying to woo the CEO of a company or someone who likes to change diapers and stay home—they want the same things from their men. They want to be appreciated, and they want a real partner, not a puppy. Have fun. Dare them. Challenge them. Savor each layer, each new thing you learn about her.”
“It’s not the gift that matters,” Victor added. “It’s the way it leaves her feeling. Make a woman feel beautiful, and she will dance for you. Make her feel loved, and she’d die for you. No woman leaves a man who makes her feel this way.”
As Brett entered the jewelry store, he was still mulling over Victor’s theory on women and love. Love wasn’t something he’d put much thought into since he’d always lumped it with castle-in-the-sky stocks: overvalued and very likely to fail. Look at his parents’ marriage and the complexity of its demise.
His father, lost to his own pain, had closed his mother out. What had she found in Mark that his father hadn’t given her? Had Mark made her feel beautiful? Special? He thought back to the conversation he’d overheard between his parents all those years ago and tried to hear it again as a man. His father had begged her to stay. How hadn’t that made her feel loved?
She’d said she couldn’t take it anymore. Take what? His father had given her a life of luxury most people dream about. He struggled to see how she could justify being anything but grateful. She’d made leaving sound like it had been a long time in coming.
My grandfather died the year I was born.
Was my mother unhappy for twelve years?
He pocketed the jewelry box after paying for Alisha’s gift. He wanted to make her happy, but he didn’t need her to love him. Things were a hell of a lot simpler if that word was kept out of the equation. What had love done for his parents? Nothing. It hadn’t stopped his mother from cheating. It hadn’t kept his parents together.
No, love was a word people threw around to justify doing whatever was in their best interest. Why had his mother kept Spencer’s real father a secret? Brett was willing to bet his mother would say she loved him too much to hurt him with the truth.
Love was fickle and malleable.
Sorry, Victor, I can make Alisha happy without relying on unrealistic, archaic traditions of promising the impossible. That’s where my father failed. He should have been more honest.
I won’t lie to Alisha. She’ll have to take me as I am.
I won’t promise her forever, but I can make her feel damn good for as long as we last.
He paused as he stepped out of the store into the evening heat. Part of him resisted leaving while his family was in turmoil, but he couldn’t work this mess out for them. He couldn’t wrap his own head around most of it, and there was no amount of money that could fix it.
My family will be fine. This is old news that won’t matter once the sting of the reveal passes. By Thanksgiving we’ll all be back to awkwardly finding reasons we can’t gather.
None of that matters now. I’m on vacation.
A lusty smile curled his lips.
Alisha Coventry, prepare yourself for a week of pleasure.
Chapter Thirteen
The morning of the cruise, Alisha double-checked that she’d packed everything, rolled her luggage onto the porch, and firmly locked the door. She’d read blogs about cruising alone, but most of them were geared toward single people who were looking to hook up with someone.
A quick image of Brett popped into her head. She couldn’t imagine meeting anyone who would make her feel as good as he did with a simple text. Which is why it’s probably best that we can’t be together. I could lose myself in someone like that. Isn’t that what my mother did? She put how my father made her feel above protecting herself—or me. She called it love, but it wasn’t.
Her mother had never looked happier than when her father first returned to her. She soared with him, happy beyond caring about anyone or anything else, but that euphoria was always followed by an ugly crash.
He’d been her addiction.
But she gave him that power.
That importance.
No man will ever reduce me to that.
As she walked toward her car, a limo pulled in, and her heart started beating wildly. The same driver who’d taken her on the shopping excursion the day before exited and walked toward her. He stopped next to her and removed his hat.
“What’s your name??
? she asked, suddenly conscious that he’d driven her around and she hadn’t thought to ask.
“Todd,” he answered.
“I’m sorry, Todd, but I can’t go anywhere today. I’m leaving right now for a cruise.”
Todd held her gaze with a professional lack of emotion. “I was instructed to drive you to the port.”
Alisha blinked a few times rapidly as she took that in. “Brett—Mr. Westerly sent you to take me?”
“Yes,” he answered patiently.
She looked from her car to the limo. “I am perfectly capable of driving myself.”
He merely nodded.
She chewed the corner of her thumb as she chose her next words. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have gone to the spa or accepted the dress. She remembered his joke about how she could pay him back. Was he merely being kind to her, or was he pursuing her? She didn’t consider herself the type to inspire the latter from a man like him, so she assured herself it was the former. Still, it had to stop. “So please thank Mr. Westerly, but tell him I didn’t require your services.”
Todd handed her a folded note.
She opened it and laughed out loud as she read:
Still saying no before you say yes? Get in the damn limo.
She met Todd’s unblinking gaze and shrugged. “He’s unexpectedly funny.” When Todd didn’t respond, Alisha continued, “Does he do this kind of thing often? Send limos to pick people up and take them places?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Wouldn’t know or wouldn’t say?”
A corner of Todd’s mouth twitched in amusement. “Whichever keeps me employed.”
Alisha put a hand on one hip. “Gotcha. You’re a vault. But if this were something you’ve done before and you, say, dropped your hat to signify that it was—who would know?”
Todd placed his hat firmly on his head. “Would you like me to place your luggage in the trunk?”
“I’m sorry, but as I said—”
“Of your vehicle or the limo.”
Alisha handed the note back to Todd. “Neither.” He nodded again and went to stand beside the passenger door of the limo.
