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I open my mouth to argue, to tell her that her health is paramount and that we don't have time for such indulgences. But then she says something that catches me off guard.
"Take a walk in the garden with me.”
Annoyance flares again, hot and insistent. ”This isn't a social call,” I grit. But something in her eyes, a quiet plea for just a few more minutes of normalcy, stops me from insisting she drags her legs inside.
I surprise myself by agreeing. "Fine," I say, trying to keep my irritation in check. "But just for a few minutes and don’t think I’m going to make this a habit."
She beams at me, and that smile again—it’s like a physical force, pushing against the walls I've built around myself. We walk down one of the stone paths, my pace slow to suit her.
Avon’s fingers brush against the petals of roses and the leaves of the hedges. It bothers me. She’s too nice to even breathe the same air as me.
"I come here every morning if I’m not too tired," she says softly, breaking the silence. "It helps me feel better.”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. The quiet beauty of the garden, her gentle presence—it all feels disarmingly pleasant, which only fuels my irritation. I’m here to help her, not to enjoy myself.
She looks up at me, her eyes bright and curious. ”I love birdsong, don’t you?”
”No,” I say between my teeth.
”How’s that possible?” she laughs. ”It’s beautiful. Listen.”
I swallow, the knot of conflicting emotions tightening in my chest. I can’t hear everything. Except for my self-control rumbling.
”Hm…yes, beautiful,” I finally reluctantly admit.
Avon turns to me, her eyes intrigued and I brace myself, knowing I’m going to be in the crossfire of a teenage girls curiosity.
“Can I ask what made you choose to become a doctor?”
My reply is terse, almost mechanical. “I’ve always been interested in science, and dissecting things. Medicine was a natural choice.”
She nods, unfazed by my lack of emotion. “And I guess helping people was another motivation?”
“Wrong,” I answer shortly. I’m not used to talking about myself, and I don’t like it. “I care more about the work itself than the patients.”
Avon’s smile falters. “You can’t mean that. That sounds so…heartless.”
I grunt in response. ”I am pretty heartless, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“I don’t believe that for a second,” she says, looking up at me with those bourbon eyes that seem to see right through me. ”I suspect you feel more than you let through.”
“Think you know me, do you?” I reply, my tone dry. “But nobody really knows me. Nobody.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she says softly to my surprise. “That sounds so tragic.”
Uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation, I clip, “Says the heiress who has nothing and nobody left other than her big house, and her staff for friends.”
Avon swallows and I feel a flare of guilt. Fuck, why did I say that? What is wrong with me?
“You’re right.” Avon slowly shrugs, surprising me by being immune to my rudeness. ”Maybe I should get myself a husband…”
She says it with a hint of humor but I still feel a flash of jealousy. “Don’t,” I state, my mind racing with the implications.
She raises her brows. “And why not?”
I stop walking and turn to face her, a frown creasing my brow. “Because you need to be careful. There are people out there who’ll want your fortune more than they want you.”
Her smile remains, but it’s tinged with amusement now as if she’s not taking my warning seriously. “Ever heard of prenups?”
