Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“Opportunities like what? Like with no obligations on the table. You’re free to do whatever you want. What are you doing in three years?” Thomas asked as he handed me a mug of hot chocolate.
“I really don’t know yet,” I admitted.
“Close your eyes, relax,” he said. “Now picture your life in three years. Everything goes exactly to plan, you’re exactly where you want to be. Where are you?”
“I’m back in New York,” I said, surprising myself a little. “I’m teaching at Amelia’s school, but only one class that’s in the mornings, two days a week. The rest of the time I spend in my studio creating whatever I’m inspired by. I don’t do deadlines, I don’t do commissions. I just paint what I feel.”
“Do you sell your work?” he asked.
“No,” I answer before I even think about the question. “I donate some to Amelia’s school and other programs, letting the sales from those paintings help people who are not as privileged as I am.”
“Saint Rose, patron saint of starving artists,” he teased, not unkindly.
“What about you? Now that you’re not a priest, what are you going to do?”
He sat back in his chair and thought about it for a minute.
“I haven’t thought that far ahead yet,” he admitted. “My father and Luc have both already called to let me know there is an opening for me in Manwarring, Inc. Before now, I would have told them to go fuck themselves. But now that Father has Stella in his life, and Luc has Amelia, they really have changed.”
“Changed how?” I asked.
“They’re softer, less bent on world domination. They have cut ties with less reputable associates. I’m no longer worried that their business plans are going to backfire and take down the family. I still just don’t know if that’s what I want to do with my life.”
“Close your eyes,” I teased, repeating the words that he had said to me earlier. “Everything has gone according to plan. Where do you see yourself in three years?”
“I’m back in New York,” he said, not closing his eyes but staring straight at me. “Happily married, considering the possibility of maybe starting a family. I go to work every day, working not with my father or brother, but with my sister. Olivia’s magazine is doing some very interesting things, and I would want to explore the investigative journalism aspect.”
“Really?” I said, not expecting that answer.
“It’s just an idea. I figured I’d see about writing a few things and show them to Olivia and if she thought they were good, then maybe I’d pursue it further.”
“What kind of things?”
“Mostly about how people abuse power and use rumors to get what they want.” He glanced down at the deck and then back up at me. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“No,” I said. “I want to get to know you. Tell me.”
He looked uncomfortable for a moment, but then he nodded.
“I want to look at the way some people, mostly CEOs and others in power, use their influence to control people around them.”
“You mean like my mother did when she got you sent to seminary school?”
“No,” Thomas said, sitting back. “Petty gossip and socialite circles are nothing new and stories about them will go nowhere. I’m more concerned with the way people use that gossip to influence markets and businesses. What your mother did to me is something that I’m trying very hard to let go of now, but I wasn’t the only person she had done things to. In the files that I saw, there was some evidence suggesting that other CEOs had used rumors of infidelity to make backdoor business deals, and even engage in insider trading.”
“My mother was insider trading?”
“Not that I know of,” Thomas said. “Your mother had evidence of other people committing fraud and insider trading.”
“Oh,” I said, not knowing how to follow that up.
“I don’t know if I’m going to do anything with it. It was just a stupid thought,” Thomas said, looking a little uncomfortable for a moment. “How about I make dinner?”
“Make dinner?” I asked, confused. I assumed either we were just having hot chocolate, or someone was going to deliver something.
He reached out his hand to me and guided me into the bottom level of the boat, which was surprisingly luxurious. He led me over to a small counter and had me sit on the barstool as he got to work chopping vegetables and boiling water for pasta.
The dish he made was simple and absolutely delicious. He served the pasta not in a ridiculous little ball, or swirl, but just poured it into bowls, letting the sauce drip over it with the vegetables before handing me a bowl and a fork.
We spent the entire night like that, eating and laughing and talking. Some topics were deep and others weren’t. We played twenty questions, asking things like, what’s your favorite color? Who was your first kiss, and everything like that.