Chapter Twenty-Six
Antoine
It’s over half an hour before we make it to the kitchen. Me in a robe from the guest room I’ve been using, and Kristen in a long, gauzy shirt that looks crazy hot, especially since she isn’t wearing anything underneath. Still, I’m not going for round three. We both need to eat.
“What do you want to have?” I ask, reaching for the drawer with takeout menus.
“Put those back. I’m going to make us omelets,” Kristen says.
“Now?”
“Uh-huh. Omelets are great anytime. Besides, I want to use up the smoked duck and white truffle I bought.” She wrinkles her nose. “If I don’t, I’m going to cry.”
“Why?”
“Do you know how much white truffles cost?”
I shake my head. “That’s what pushed our grocery bill so high on Monday?”
She nods, pulling out eggs, some vacuum-sealed thing and another item wrapped in a plastic bag. “I had a grand plan.”
“Which was?”
“Make a smoked duck and white truffle omelet and impress the hell out of you.”
I laugh. “By cooking?” I’m not really a picky eater.
“A man’s stomach is the quickest path to…” She smiles and shrugs. “Who would’ve thought I could’ve just gone on a lunch date with some guy?” Her head tilts as she cracks the eggs and starts whipping them up in a bowl. “Were you jealous or was it something else?”
“Something else?”
“I heard enough of you and your mom’s conversation to know you need to marry to inherit.”
“Pffft. That nonsense?” I wave it away. “Need any help?”
“Nope.” She chops stuff up on a cutting board. “Just how much money were you talking that you’re calling it nonsense?”
I suppress a sigh. She isn’t going to let it go…and I do owe her an explanation for the shit-fest I created. “One point two billion.”
Kristen makes a choking sound and spins toward me. “Billion? Like with a B?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t see how that kind of money is ‘nonsense.’”
“It is if you don’t want it, and people are trying to make you do things you don’t want to do for it.”
“You mean marry someone.” She checks the pan and stirs some butter around in it with a spatula.
“Uh-huh. As part of a competition. Among other things.”
Kristen pours the eggs into the pan and then rapidly adds the other ingredients. She adjusts the temperature and watches everything firm up. “You know, some people do that. You know about Liza and her brothers and the paintings, right? All of them needed to marry and stay married for a year to inherit priceless paintings by their grandfather.”
“Sure. But she didn’t have to get hitched to get hers. And even though her brothers got their paintings, they’re still married.”
“So?”
“So they didn’t marry to inherit the paintings. They did it because that’s what they wanted to do.”
Kristen expertly folds the eggs, cuts them in half with the spatula and loads the omelets onto two plates. I take them to the table while she brings utensils and a pitcher of orange juice. We sit and dig in.
Damn. “This is amazing.”
“Everyone should have at least one secret weapon. This is mine.” Kristen smiles. “Would’ve been better if I’d made it on Tuesday. Fresher ingredients.”
“I don’t know… I think Dominic bought the ‘nothing ever spoils’ model.” I glance over at the space-age fridge.
She laughs. “He does go a little insane sometimes.”
We eat in silence for a moment. Peaceful, comforting…but with a hum of sensual tension underneath.
Suddenly, Kristen says, “You know…if you ever change your mind about the money, I mean, like, decide you want it after all, I don’t mind. I mean, marrying you, so you can inherit. I’m not saying it’d be like forever or anything. It could be like a temporary marriage, or, you know. Whatever. And in case you’re wondering, I’m not saying this to make you feel uncomfortable, but it’s a lot of money. It would totally guarantee your future.”
The words tumble out in a torrent. I stare, unsure what to make of her outburst. I know she has feelings for me. No woman puts up with the bullshit I put her through unless she has some affection… And hope for the future.
And I have to clarify something. “No. Kristen, stop.”
She clamps her mouth shut.
“First, I appreciate the offer. Really. But that’s not the way I’m going to go here, and you shouldn’t either. Something as important as marriage, just to inherit money? I don’t think so. If you want to get married, you should do it with a person who loves you and makes you their first priority in life, don’t you think?. Anyone else isn’t worth it.”
Kristen stares at me like I’ve slapped her.
* * *
Kristen
Wow. That…hurts.
Logically what Antoine is saying makes perfect sense. Anybody would say the same thing. But that doesn’t mean I’m okay. Maybe I needed to hear him say that he’s interested…or at least pretend to consider it. Maybe—even after the spectacular sex—I’m feeling a little raw about what he said to his mother. There’s a huge difference between lust and love—especially the marrying kind of love.
Now that I slow down a little and think about it, I realize he only said sex with me was better than the fantasy. It’s probably too early for him to start tossing around the L-word, but shouldn’t he have said some sweet nothings, too? I mean, other than how amazing the sex was?
As though he can sense my churning emotions, he adds, “Kristen, I know you mean well. And I adore you for thinking of me and worrying about my future. But I’ve seen how money can’t guarantee happiness. Just look at my family.”
“What about them?”
“My grandfather, who came up with this ridiculous scheme, is a difficult, controlling son of a bitch. He hates that all his fortune couldn’t give him a son. And he has too much pride to divorce his wife…not that he loves her. He has a certain self-image, and that image includes him being this great, faithful husband with a nice, sweet little wife, and a son who inherits it all. His two daughters, my mother and my aunt? They’re miserable. They’ve spent their entire lives competing with each other, hoping that they could somehow prove themselves worthy of their father’s affection. And the reason my grandfather is doing all this is because he’s upset. He’s upset that he can’t control fate with his money. He thinks if he flashes enough cash, at least people will cave and jump to his bidding and give him the sense of control he desperately wants.” He shrugs. “I’m not playing that game.”
I stare at Antoine, needing a moment to process everything. I’ve always assumed his family got along well, although he rarely talks about them. “I see.”
“Besides, I doubt he’ll honor the scheme. There isn’t any written contract, and he’ll find a loophole. This is all just to see how high some of us will jump to do his bidding.”
I poke at the half of the omelet left on my plate, moving it around with my fork. His explanation makes sense, but now that my head isn’t completely clouded with surging hormones, I can’t help but wonder… “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” Antoine says easily. Maybe too easily.
I take a quick sip of OJ to wet my suddenly dry throat. “You always said you couldn’t date me because I’m Dominic’s baby sister.”
He looks at me like I were a mine. Or a bomb.
“So…what made you change your mind?”
“Do you regret…?” I flick a finger between me and him, doing my best to be casual and carefree. From his expression, I’m doing a shittastic job of that.
He gives me a look reserved for a drunk or a lunatic. “No. I don’t regret it. But…” He stops, considering. “There’s a reason men have a rule that says don’t date your best friend’s sister.”
“If you ask me, it’s crap designed to deprive women of good men they could’ve had.”
Antoine grows serious. “Women don’t date their best friends’ exes, do they?”
“No. At least, we aren’t supposed to. Too awkward.”
“Right? Kind of the same thing.”
“There are lots of reasons people break up, and they don’t always become mortal enemies. And if your best friend and your ex are truly in love, most women let it go. At least they do if they’re real friends. Don’t you think Dominic’s friendship with you is strong enough?”
“I do.”
“Then why not?”
“You know I had a best friend before meeting Dominic, right?”
I blink. Well, sure… I just never gave it a ton of thought. It isn’t in my nature to dig like a spy, and Antoine never volunteered the information before.
“My best friend—former best friend—his name is Eddie. Anyway, we were inseparable, and he has a sister. She and I started dating, things got serious…but then it didn’t end well. She had some mental issues I didn’t recognize back then. He blames me for pushing her over the edge. Our friendship imploded, and he and I just…” Antoine shakes his head. “Let’s just say that if Eddie were to see me on fire, he’d run to get an extra can of gas.”
“That’s terrible. But how can he blame you for what happened? I can’t imagine you doing something on purpose to hurt someone.”
“Well, no, of course not.” He sighs. “But how I meant for things to happen isn’t really relevant. What is important is that it happened, and I hurt people. And that’s why I resisted you for so long. It took me a long time to find a new best friend, and I don’t want to lose him the way I did Eddie.”
“Well, I’m not like her, and Dominic isn’t Eddie. Even if things don’t work out between us for whatever reason, I’m not going to let Dominic blame you, assuming that he even would, which I doubt. My brother values your friendship. You’re his closest friend, and he trusts you completely. I know, because he trusts you with Liza’s safety, and she matters more to him than his own life.”
Antoine says nothing. Damn it. I don’t want this hanging over us, with him thinking that he’s on thin ice with Dominic. Relationships aren’t easy, even when the couple is crazy in love. Just look how things were between my brother and his new wife. And Antoine and I don’t yet have the kind of bond that always existed between Dominic and Liza.
So, very casually, I ask, “If you could, would you go back and change things?”
Antoine takes the last bite of his omelet and chews thoughtfully. After a while, I give up on getting an answer. Maybe it’s not something he’s really thought about. Antoine is a practical guy, not the type to get starry-eyed and daydream.
He rinses his plate and utensils and loads them into the dishwasher. After shutting it, he says, “Eddie and I weren’t just ‘friends.’ Our families were very close, and his father and mine had multiple, mutually profitable business dealings. Maman and his mother used to meet for coffee in the afternoon. Like, almost every day. Eddie and I grew up together, and we were like brothers.” He presses his palms against the edge of the counter and leans back against it, his eyes on mine. “Maman and Papa never said a word, but I wasn’t the only one who lost a best friend. They also lost their trusted business partner and friend. If I were ever given a chance to fix the situation, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”