Page 18 of Wicked Elites

I chewed my lip. Only companies with shareholders held those kinds of meetings, and if they boarded a plane, it had to be a big firm. Curiosity burned in my chest, but I pushed it back into the pit of my belly.

“Did everyone in the family go?” I asked.

“I didn’t, and neither did my grandfather, who was recovering from a heart attack. He’s the only blood relative I have left on that side of the family.”

“And the other?”

He raised his broad shoulders. “My mother didn’t engage with them when she was alive, and I’m reluctant to let them into my life at this stage.”

“She must have had her reasons.”

My gaze flicked back to the cast on his left wrist and to his fingers. He didn’t wear a ring, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t married. How old was he? Twenty, twenty-two? Definitely university age or more. He had the physique of an older man, all broad and muscular and deliciously masculine.

I gave myself a mental slap. Ten minutes ago, I was crying about Mom and Dad, and now I was checking out his body.

Much later, at a roundabout, he took the exit to the highway that led to Carlisle. I frowned. In all the upset, I’d forgotten to tell him that I needed a ride to Brittas Academy. The keys to our house were in my purse, so it really didn’t matter.

“Can you drop me off in Cummersdale village, please?” I asked.

“I admire you,” he said.

My brows furrowed. “Why?”

“You’re so composed in the face of tragedy.”

“On the outside, maybe.” I stared down the highway at a speeding car overtaking a truck and held my breath. When the car disappeared around the front of the truck, I exhaled. “But you were much younger than I am now. I think I feel…”

“Empty?”

I nodded. “It’s like fate has reached through my body and clawed out my insides. Does it ever go away?”

“Apparently, it does eventually. The grief counselor Grandfather hired told me that my family is with me all the time, supporting me when I need them the most.”

“I don’t get it.”

“The memories we carry, I suppose. He says I should think back at all those happy times. One day, they won’t be so painful.”

At the end of the highway, we reached the outskirts of our village. I directed him to our street. A few minutes later, he stopped the car outside our home, a black-and-white timber-framed cottage with paneled windows and a pitched roof. Dad and Uncle Trevor had renovated it together with the help of Mom, Ashley, and me. So much of our love and souls filled the space, selling it would mean losing the last few years we shared as a family.

For a millisecond, I wondered why the lights were off, then reality crashed back into place, along with an ache that penetrated my heart to its empty chambers.

A weary sigh heaved out of my lungs. “I just wish I could cut off those feelings.”

“Don’t.” He turned off the engine. “That would mean cutting off love.”

“But it’s so brutal.”

He twisted in his seat, his green eyes so dark in the dim light, they appeared black. “The year Princess Diana died, the whole nation was in mourning. Queen Elizabeth said that grief was the price we paid for love.”

“That’s ominous…” I gulped. “But deep.”

He reached across and placed his large, warm hand over mine. “Everything, no matter how good or permanent, will end.” His deep, smoky voice seeped through my defenses and into my bones. “So why not enjoy the moments you have?”

Without thinking, I whispered, “Was driving off the cliffs your idea of enjoyment?”

Leaning forward, he murmured, “It was, until I lost control of the Porsche.”

Soft lips met mine in a kiss so gentle, it reached my heart and filled it with warmth. It was my first and better than I could have imagined. His hand cupped the side of my face, holding me as if I was made of fine china or something equally as delicate. He smelled of sensuality, sandalwood, and my salvation.