Page 57 of Passion and Privilege

“I mean exactly what I said, Timothy. I know what you want from Catherine.”

“I’m sorry, but what makes you think you know the first thing about me?”

“She’s not some rich socialite,” he said getting to his feet. “I know your type.”

“I don’t think you do,” I said, my voice barely controlled. I was trying to give him the respect I would give any elder, but he was pushing it.

“She’s smart, talented, and I won’t let her throw her life away for some rich guy who’ll keep her hidden away from the world in his sad mansion. I don’t want her with another man that doesn’t know how to treat her. She deserves better than you or that other character. The right man is out there for her.”

I felt the sting of his words. I wanted to be pissed at him, but there was a part of me that got it. I would do the same for Paisley, if not more. A father had to protect his daughter.

“I care for your daughter,” I retorted, my words laced with frustration. “I wouldn’t hurt her.”

John stared at me with a great deal of skepticism. “She looked pretty hurt this morning.”

I dropped my head, hating that I had hurt her feelings. That was not my intention. I had been a damn fool last night.

“Where is she?” I asked again. “I need to talk to her.”

“In Albany,” John replied.

“When do you expect her back?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t keep tabs on her. She went to get some fixtures for your house.”

That was a sliver of hope. It meant she would be back. “John, I care about her. There was a misunderstanding. I can explain things and I will make it right.”

“Or you could just leave her alone,” he said. “We both know you two are from different worlds. Just let her finish the job and move on to the next one. She’s going to be busy fixing up her own house. She’ll forget about you in no time. You just need to back off.”

“John, you don’t understand,” I said, feeling the desperation creep into my voice. “You’re right, we are from different worlds, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t...” The words wouldn’t come.

He stared at me, his face hardened with years of experience and wisdom. “Timothy,” he began in a soft voice. “I have seen too many young women get hurt by men who cannot or will not commit. Catherine has had her fair share of heartache and disappointment. As her father, it is my duty to protect her.”

It was like a gut punch. “I don’t want to hurt her, John. I want to protect her too.”

“Do you?” he questioned, skepticism hardening his face. “Because from where I’m standing, it seems you’re part of the problem, not the solution.”

Anger welled up inside me, but I swallowed it down. He was just looking out for Catherine, and I couldn’t fault him for that.

“I know what you think about me, John,” I said, my voice steady but firm. “But what you see isn’t all there is to me.”

“Then prove it,” he said.

“Prove it?”

“Yes,” John replied, his gaze steady. “Prove that you are more than the man I see standing in front of me right now. Prove to me that you’re not just another spoiled rich guy looking for a new plaything. Most importantly, prove to Catherine that you’re the man she deserves. Because right now, Timothy, neither of us believe it.”

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on me. It was a challenge and a warning rolled into one. But it wasn’t an impossible task. I could do it.

I nodded. “I will. You’ll see. Please tell her I stopped by.”

“Sure.”

I had a feeling that meant he had no intention of telling her. I walked out of the shop and called Catherine. It went to voicemail, which didn’t surprise me. It had gone straight to voicemail when I called her the first time. And the second.

As I drove back to the manor, the realization settled in that I needed to prove to Catherine that what had transpired between us wasn’t merely a fleeting moment. I needed her to understand that my feelings were sincere, that I was serious about us. Yes, I handled it badly last night, but that was a moment of weakness.

I didn’t want her to leave the manor and go to work on her new house. I had a feeling I wouldn’t see her. She would be too busy for me. Catherine was important, but I had another priority I needed to deal with.