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“Maybe he’s in love. Have you considered that?”
“Oh, I know he’s in love; I’m not disputing that,” she says. “Another thing I know is that this love won’t last because he will not get the blessings of his family, and by the time I’m done with your family, he won’t get their blessings either.”
I suck in a breath, and she smiles. “I didn’t raise my son all these years for him to end up in a relationship with someone like you. Alec is an asset, and we have deliberated over him for years. You shouldn’t be in the picture, Miss Ambrose. Take yourself out of it.”
I’ve watched lots of movies where this happened, and I never for once thought it would happen to me. It’s the same scene where the man’s mother threatens the lady to leave her son alone. The only thing missing is a fat check as an incentive to stay away.
As if reading my thoughts, Mrs. Ace smiles. “You won’t take a financial loss, I promise you. I’ll have my accountant send you—”
“Please don’t insult me.” I rise to my feet, interrupting her before she even completes the sentence. “I don’t need your money.”
“Oh, but you do.” She’s looking up at me, yet she manages to look dignified. “You’re broke, and you don’t have a job.”
“And yet I’ve been surviving. Like I said, do not insult me.”
She purses her lips, and I shake my head. “I am not a billionaire, but I will not suck up to one. I am comfortable, and I live well within my means. If you want me to leave your son alone, fine, but keep your money to yourself. I’m sure there’re a lot of charitable organizations it can go into.”
“My family and I are doing enough of that. Didn’t Alec tell you?” She grabs her bag and stands. “Oh, he doesn’t tell you about the family business because he knows you wouldn’t understand a thing,” she said, laughing. “Admit it, you’re way out of your league here. I’m only doing you a favor in helping you get out now, or else you’ll regret it much later when you have more to lose.”
“Get out.”
She narrows her eyes. “What did you just say to me?”
“Get out.”
She laughs. “I’ll forgive your rudeness because I know you’re hurt, but don’t you ever speak to me like that again, especially when you’re standing in my son’s house.” She pushes past me and heads to the door.
“Mrs. Ace?” I turn to her, and she pauses with her hand on the knob. “Have you ever considered that your son doesn’t listen to you because you’re the problem?”
“What?” She turns to me.
“Your son isn’t happy with the family, and that’s why he loves to spend all his time in New York. Home isn’t here because you’re always breathing down his neck and telling him what to do. He’s a grown man.”
“You will not tell me how to raise my son!” Anger flashes in her eyes.
“Of course.” I nod. “But I must warn you that even if I leave Alec alone, you’re not going to have him.”
“So now it’s a competition?” She snarls. “Is that what you think this is?”
“No.” I shake my head. “It’s a cry for help. I’ll leave Alec alone because, more than falling in love with a man, I want his family to accept me, and I’m obviously never going to get that here. But I love Alec too much to let him continue to live this life, and since you’re never going to accept me anyway, I’m going to say it.”
The muscles in her chin flex, but she says nothing.
“You’re his mother. Stop treating him like you’re his managing director. He loves you and wants to relate to you like a son, but you only see dollar bills when you look at him. You have completely pushed him away, and he’s starting to resent you.”
“Are you done?” She asks, and when I don’t respond, she nods. “I don’t ever want to set my eyes on you again. I hope this talk yields us both what we want because hell is the other option, and it’s not for me. I hope I’ve made myself clear. Good day, Miss Ambrose.” She walks out the door.
Chapter twenty-one
Alec
I glance at my wristwatch and groan when I note that we still have thirty minutes until this event ends. These are one of the things I do not look forward to when I finally take over Ace Corps because events like this overwhelm and suck the life out of me. I would probably get someone to do it for me.
I miss Jasmine, and she’s home alone while I’m stuck here. There are hundreds of other things we could be doing. I hate it.
“Stop glancing at your wristwatch every five minutes,” my father murmurs, nudging me in the stomach. “It’s rude.”
We have our private table and are the only ones seated at it. How’s it rude when no one can see me? I try to pay attention to what the speaker is saying, but my attention is really divided, and the action is futile, so I go back to thinking about Jasmine.
