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“What dishes do you enjoy back home?”
“Lobster is a big one in Maine. Clams. Anything to do with seafood.”
“Would you go back home if you didn’t work for Nettleton & Thompson?” The thought made his chest tighten.
She hesitated, then finally said, “I don’t think so. It was my home at one time. But even though I followed someone else’s dream to get here, I really do love London.”
“What would you do, then?”
She was silent for a long time. “I’ve thought about opening my own firm.”
“Why don’t you?”
She sat up and picked up her glass of wine, swirled the blush-colored liquid inside.
“I worked so hard to get into the international internship program. So many people coveted the spot I got. And when I was offered a full-time position, only a fool would have turned it down. I’ve learned a lot from them.”
“But it’s not what you love.”
She slowly shook her head. “No. I got interested in estate planning when my mom helped out our elderly neighbor, Mrs. Carr. Her son and his wife had passed away in a car accident, leaving her with full custody of three grandchildren. She was grieving, terrified that she didn’t have enough to take care of them, especially because she wondered about how much time she had left.
“Mom and I were over at her house helping her clean an attic room when an estate lawyer came to visit. Local man, nice enough when I saw him around town. He sat down with her and answered all these questions, helped her make a plan and then a plan for the plan.” Her lips curved. “By the time he left Mrs. Carr was...peaceful. It was still a horrible situation, but she was able to move forward.” She looked at him then, with her hair gilded by sunlight and the smile on her face content. “I realized I wanted to do that. Help ordinary people find peace and enjoy the rest of their lives.”
Floored by the depth of her kindness, unsettled by the stark difference in how they fell into their respective career paths, he watched as she looked out over the gardens. Even though his parents had always stressed leading Lykaois Shipping was his choice, he’d slipped into his various roles with little more than his father’s recommendation. When it had been time to take over his current position, he hadn’t questioned if he would or would not get it. He’d done good work. Hard work. But he was also a Lykaois. He’d expected it.
He followed the direction of Rosalind’s gaze. More oaks had been planted around the perimeter of the garden, their leafy tops soaring above the garden walls. Once he’d recovered from most of his injuries and the pain had subsided to a manageable level, work had been a saving grace. A much healthier distraction than how he’d dealt with things before. Even though he’d taken an official sabbatical, he’d kept his eyes on the company from afar, reviewing the data and reports on a daily basis. He’d grown to appreciate the inner workings, the details he’d thought himself master of that, when applied to an international scale, were far more complex and intricate.
Details he was now responsible for. A duty he had not taken lightly. It was, he realized as he watched the treetops sway in the breeze, something good to come out of tragedy. Something he would give up in a heartbeat if it would bring his father back. The money, the prestige, the company, all of it.
But he couldn’t. What he could do, however, was continue on this path, one of responsibility and leadership. One he realized he deeply cared about.
His eyes drifted back to Rosalind. To the serenity on her face, the slight smile about her lips. He’d never been bothered to think past the surface, to see light in darkness. But the woman at his side had inspired him to do just that.
Something shifted in his heart. Something deep that he would have to deal with later.
Much later. Not now, not when he was enjoying himself too much to stop and think and dissect what was going on inside him.
“Your clients are fortunate to have you.”
“Some are even grateful.”
She laughed when he arched his brow at her. He reached into the basket and pulled out a small container of fudge. When Rosalind bit into a piece, her eyes drifted shut as she let out a moan that shot straight to his groin.
“This is incredible.” She looked at him, happiness radiating from her face. “I wish I lived like you did. Turning something simple into this incredibly decadent experience.”
Her words hit him. He’d always seen the way he’d lived his life as an escape, a way to keep himself isolated. It was why he’d punished himself with deprivation the past year.
But to hear Rosalind do what she did, find the good in something, unsettled him. Disturbed the way he’d thought about things for so long. Made him remember a time before his mother’s death when his parents had also indulged in the finer things in life, albeit in a much more moderate way. But they had instilled in him an appreciation for both the large and the small, the things they had earned and the things they benefited from because of their station in life.
When had he lost sight of that? Bastardized it for his own selfish needs?
“The way I’ve lived my life is not something to admire.”
“Not all of it, no.” She shrugged as she took another generous sip of wine. “Doesn’t take away the fact that there are good things. I read some of the interviews you gave two years ago. You know your company. The way you talked about operations and some of the things your departments were working on. Not just big projects, but smaller ones, too.” She smiled at him. “Unless it has a six-figure inheritance attached to it, Mr. Nettleton doesn’t bother to get involved with smaller clients. But you do. I like that about you.”
I like that about you.
His breath caught in his chest as her words slid through him, warming him with their simplicity and sweetness.
