Page 48 of The Billionaire's Angel

She sent Mrs. W a beseeching look. I braced. Mrs. W was notorious for her strict adherence to the line between help and family. Amelia might be on my side, but Mrs. W would be onSophie's.

She shocked the hell out of me when she tilted her head to the side and studied Sophie, then me, and said, “I'll keep Amelia company, Sophie. Go out to lunch withGage.”

We all stared at her in shock. Mrs. W went on, as if nothing were unusual, and said, “Gage, help get Amelia settled in the dining room. I'm going to make her soup and a sandwich, and I'd like a moment alone withSophie.”

Chapter Twenty

Gage

Without another word,I hooked my arm around Aunt Amelia’s shoulders and ushered her out of the room. Sophie looked uncertainly at Mrs. W, still chewing on her lower lip. As soon as we cleared the kitchen, Amelia murmured, “I never thought I'd see the day that old battle-ax and I agreed onsomething.”

“Don't call Mrs. W a battle-ax,” Isaid.

Mrs. W was in her late forties, but she looked a decade younger. She had the posture of a ballerina and the kind of bone structure that told you she’d been beautiful in her twenties and would still be beautiful when she was Amelia’s age. Even in her severe dresses, with her dark hair in a tight bun, she was in no way a battle-ax. “I don't understand why the two of you have never gotten along, and I don't want to know. I'm just glad she's on myside.”

Amelia let me pull out her chair. When I went to leave, she said, “Sit. Sophie will be in the kitchen for a few minutes, and I want to talk toyou.”

I sat in a chair beside Amelia's. “Don't you want lunch on a tray in the living room or the library?” I asked. The dining room was huge, with more than enough room for the entire family plus guests. Lunch for one would be lonely at the longtable.

Amelia smiled and looked around the room, her dark eyes taking in the polished table with loving warmth. “I have a lot of good memories from this room, Gage. When you get to my age, memory can becompany.”

I thought of all the meals I'd eaten in that room when my parents had been alive and the whole family packed the table. Later, nightly dinners with Uncle Hugh and Aunt Olivia surrounded by my siblings and cousins. They were all here, the living and the dead, a part of the very fabric of this room, thishouse.

I’d spent so many years running from my memories, haunted by them. I never stood still long enough to see that Winters House was the one place where my family was always with me, even those that weregone.

“I know what you mean,” I said, finally. Amelia reached out to take my hand andsqueezed.

“I know you do.” She gave my hand another squeeze and held it in hers. “You take care of that girl, Gage. I know you too well to think you're playing with her, but I need to warn you anyway. If you don't treat her right, I'll be very disappointed inyou.”

After a long silence while I tried to come up with some kind of response, something funny, something that would deflect the seriousness of the conversation, I gave up and just said, “I think I'm falling in love withher.”

Amelia gave me a brilliant smile and said, “I already know that. You two think you're so subtle. The looks you were giving each other over cards yesterday, I thought you were going to set the library onfire.”

“Don't tell Sophie that,” I said. “She'd die ofembarrassment.”

“I know that, foolish boy. I can keep things to myself when it's important. I know you've got a lot on your plate right now, and I know that you’re head over heels in love with the girl. I'm just asking you to be careful withher.”

“I will,” I promised. Standing, I pressed a kiss to Amelia's wrinkled cheek and left, saying, “I'll tell Mrs. W you’re ready for yourlunch.”

I bumped into Sophie in the hall on my way back to the kitchen. Giving me another of those shy looks, she said, “Just let me change. I'll be rightback.”

Then she was gone, striding down the hall to her room. Whatever Mrs. W said to her, it must've worked. Leaning in the kitchen doorway, I watched her efficiently assembling Amelia’s sandwich as she heated soup in a small pot on the gasstove.

Seeing me, she speared me with a sharp look and said, “Don't make me regret this,Gage.”

“I won't, Iswear.”

“It goes against everything I've always thought appropriate,” she said, crisply, “but Sophie has a good head on her shoulders, and she'd never think to take advantage. See that you don'teither.”

I nodded. I probably should've been offended that everyone was more worried about Sophie's well-being than mine. This wasmyfamily, not hers. It was just one more reminder that she'd been here, a part of their everyday lives, and I'd beengone.

But, as much as they adored Sophie, I knew that if Amelia and Mrs. W didn't trust me to take care with her, they wouldn't be scheming to get her to go out with me. In a weird, backward way, them pushing me and Sophie together felt likeforgiveness.

Mrs. W and Amelia were easy. Aiden, however, would be a problem. I’d deal with him later. For once, his long hours and habit of avoiding me were coming inhandy.

Sophie came back down the hall wearing the same jeans she'd had on before, now with a red wool turtleneck sweater. She’d taken her hair down, and it spilled over her shoulders in silvery blond waves. The sweater covered every inch of skin above her waist, but it was snug and did nothing to hide the full swell of her breasts or the curve of herwaist.

I stared too long before I caught myself, imagining peeling up the soft red wool and sliding my hands over the creamy skinbeneath.