I didn’t respond to her statement because she was right. But they didn’t just want me for me, but because I was a powerful suit with a nice penthouse, my name on the front door of my building. I could get pussy with my looks, but I suspected the money was sexier than my appearance.
I should be grateful for my inheritance, but the money felt like a disservice sometimes. It ruined my life, made people treat me differently, gave me respect from strangers that I didn’t deserve. It trapped me in a marriage based on a lie, made me love a woman who never loved me, not even on our wedding day.
Our sandwiches were brought to us.
“Thank god,” Matt said, unwrapping the sandwich immediately and taking a bite big enough to rival the jaw of a dinosaur. He even tore through the bread with his teeth, ripping off the piece before he chewed.
Carson ate quickly, just not ferociously. Her hand dived into my bag of chips, and she ate those at the same time.
We turned quiet, our mouths full.
Charlie ate with his elbows on the table, hovering over his food.
Matt demolished everything in record time.
I ate with my eyes on Carson, seeing the way she shifted between sandwich and chips, her eyes on her food instead of me. When she noticed my stare, she turned her bag of chips toward me so we could share.
“That’s generous…”
She narrowed her eyes playfully and took another bite.
I reached my hand inside and grabbed a chip before I continued eating. We ate in comfortable silence, like I was part of the group. I’d infiltrated their ranks and felt like I belonged there. We didn’t talk about money, the next hot club, when we would take a yacht out…nothing like that. Life was simple, really simple.
And it was nice.
Twenty-Two
Dax
I sat on the couch in my penthouse, working on my laptop with the TV on, the breathtaking view of the city in front of me, the Manhattan lights bright. I was in my sweatpants and a t-shirt, scrolling through reports and paperwork.
The doorbell rang before the chef stepped inside. “Good evening, Mr. Frawley.” He let himself inside and headed to the table.
“Hello, Chef.” I kept my eyes on my computer.
He moved to the table and set up my dinner before he quietly excused himself.
I closed my laptop and walked over to the dining table. There was a Cab from 1970 on the table along with a filled glass, and he’d left a plate of fresh fish with sautéed vegetables with a green salad.
I sat down and ate alone.
My penthouse was in the corner of the building, so I had views from almost anywhere in the apartment. I looked outside as I ate, seeing the light from a helicopter in the distance. The double-paned glass made it impossible to hear the sounds of the city outside, and it gave me a false feeling of calm when there were sirens going off everywhere, pedestrians talking loudly, restaurants packed with people.
I drank my glass and felt the emptiness inside me…deep inside.
My phone buzzed with a text message. Your sister is here to see you. Shall I let her up?
I texted back the security officer in the lobby. Yeah.
She just got into the elevator.
I didn’t get up and continued to eat.
The doors opened a minute later straight into the living room. She stood in the center, in jeans and a blouse, wearing heels that gave her extra inches in height. She had a folder under her arm, and she welcomed herself inside. A watch was on her wrist, and her clothes showed her station in life. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your meal.”
“It’s fine. You want some?”
“No. But I’ll take a glass of that wine.” She set the folder down and helped herself to a glass in the kitchen before she returned. She sat down and filled the glass before she smelled it. “I love French wine.” She swirled it and took a sip. “1980?”
“70.”
“Close.”
“You were off by a decade.” I pulled the folder closer to me but didn’t open it.
She took a few more sips, savoring the taste. “How’s your dinner?”
“Good.”
“I had his lamb chops last night. To die for.”
I didn’t eat lamb.
She studied me, eyes similar to mine. “Everything alright?”
I shrugged as I ate. My sister and I butted heads, disagreed on a lot of things, but she was the only family I had in the world, so she was like a mother to me in some ways, even though we were close in age. I shared things with her because I didn’t have anyone else to share them with. She did the same with me, telling me about the men in her life like she would tell our mother.
She held her glass and took a sip. “You’re brooding bad.”
“I always brood.”
“Yeah, but this is worse than usual. Did Clint piss you off?”
“He always pisses me off, but no.”
“Then talk to me.”
I hadn’t told her about Carson. I’d told my playboy friends, but they didn’t seem to care or understand. Monogamy was like the plague, especially after my nasty divorce. “I’ve been seeing this woman…”
“Oh.” She nodded slightly. “And that’s bad because…?”
It was bad for a lot of reasons. “I like her.”
“It’s bad that you like her?” she asked for clarification, as if she’d misheard me. “Dax, not every woman in the world is like Rose. There’re good people out there, and I think it’s great that you’re giving someone a chance. This is the first time I’ve ever heard you mention anyone, so she must be special to you.”
“She is.” She was a breath of fresh air after being around egotistical, greedy people all day long. The grass was always greener on the other side, but her yard was like an oasis. She wasn’t stupid and airheaded. She was smart…really smart. Her intelligence was so sexy to me.
“Then that sounds like great news.”
“Well…she doesn’t know who I am.”
She propped her chin on her hand as she looked at me. “I don’t understand what that means.”
I looked at the Manhattan lights as I spoke. “Anytime I meet a woman and she knows who I am, she treats me differently. It’s not real. I’m tired of that. So, when I met Carson, I lied…”
“About?”
“Everything.” I turned back to her. “She thinks I’m just a financial advisor at the company. I have this little apartment that I take the girls to, so they think I’m average, kinda on the poor side.”
She shook her head slightly. “Dax…”
“I’ve met a few girls that way, and it’s a completely different experience. And with Carson, it’s been really nice.”
“So, what was your goal? Were you looking for a relationship?”
“Not necessarily. I just got really tired of all the bullshit. It’s the same kind of girls over and over…”
“Well, have you ever tried to date a normal girl as yourself?”
“Yes. They’re either obsessed with my wealth or they’re uncomfortable by it. This way, I’ve been able to meet girls who see me as me. Some like me, and some don’t. But it’s real.”