Chapter 40

ROSE

What the hell was I doing?

Thomas had texted me that morning with an address in Notting Hill, in an area called Little Venice.

The address had to be wrong. I was standing on the side of the canal looking around, completely confused.

“Rose,” his voice called, and I turned to see Thomas in a white cable-knit sweater and torn jeans, barefooted. My God, did he carry off “normal” clothes. I asked for a normal boyfriend, but for some reason, I didn’t think he could do it.

He looked good in torn jeans, but they just didn’t look like him. Still, he was unbelievably handsome, his eyes appearing darker in contrast to the white cable-knit sweater, his curls a little wild instead of combed back.

He was standing on a houseboat and reaching his hand out to help me board it.

“Where are we?” I asked, taking his hand.

“I figured we would have dinner here on the boat. It would be a romantic night, kind of sweet, and we could talk about whatever you want.”

“That sounds… lovely, actually,” I said, surprised. It really seemed like a date that he put a lot of thought into.

We were surrounded by other houseboats, so there were plenty of people to hear me scream if I needed to. I was safe, but we still had some privacy. We could talk and get to know each other without worrying about other people overhearing us or, worse, if the paparazzi found out that the Manwarring priest left the priesthood and decided that they just needed to get a photo.

The entire evening, Thomas was annoyingly perfect. He was sweet, attentive. When the winter breeze on the water was too intense, he lit a fire in the little fire pit for us to sit and warm ourselves by. He even had the hot chocolate brand that I loved from New York.

“So, how are your new classes?” he asked, and I narrowed my eyes, wondering if he really cared. The old Thomas wouldn’t have cared, but I did promise to give him a chance, so I guessed that meant I had to give him the benefit of the doubt?

“Classes are great,” I said with a wide smile. “They’re challenging, definitely, and I feel like I’m just playing catch-up since I came in a semester late and all the other students are already so far ahead of me. But I think I’m catching up? At least the instructor seems to be impressed with my progress.”

“That sounds amazing. What are you intending to do with your degree once you get it?” he asked, and there was no judgment behind his question.

He was actually asking what I intended to do with an art degree. Not implying it was a frivolous degree for a woman to get while looking for a husband.

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “When I originally applied, it was to learn as much as I could about art, and I just assumed that eventually I would marry someone Mother picked out and art would be a hobby or a passion. But now that I don’t have her controlling my life, and I’m seeing what other people are doing, like Amelia with her school… it opens up so many more opportunities I had never even considered.”

“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.

It was exactly what I asked for.

And exactly what I didn’t want.

“Enough,” I said, standing up and pacing around the room. “Enough.”

“What’s wrong, angel?” Thomas said with an annoyingly smug look on his face.

“You know what’s wrong. This is all wrong. This is so wrong.” I threw my hands up in the air as I continued pacing.

“You’re going to need to explain, angel. I thought this is what you wanted?”

“No, you didn’t. You know what I want. You always know what I want and what I need. This is just you giving me what I said I wanted.”

“What?” he said, looking up at me with big innocent eyes, a little too innocent if you asked me.

“This is all wrong. It’s not who you are. You’re not the nice guy who rents out a boat and makes pasta. You’re not the guy who asks about my dreams and about what I want to be when I grow up. Or who teases me about my favorite color, purest of snow white. This just isn’t you. And please, investigative journalism? That isn’t you. You are just as hellbent on world domination as every other member of your family. Stop trying to be someone you aren’t and give me the man I need.”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean?” I could see the confused look cracking just around the eyes. He was trying to hold back his satisfied amusement.

“Fine.” I stomped my foot like a child. “Fine. You want me to say it? I’ll say it. You win. I give up.”

A slow smile crept over his face as he stood and walked over to me, his hand going to the nape of my neck as he tilted my neck up so I could meet his gaze.

“What was that?” he asked, his voice taking a low, dangerous tone, and my heart raced. “I’m not sure I heard you correctly.”

The edge to his voice made my knees weak, and I knew right then that he knew exactly what I needed. He was showing me how much I needed it. Letting me realize the truth on my own.

I was wrong. He knew me better than anyone else ever could.

I lowered to my knees in front of him, seeing the outline of his cock already hard for me.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”

“Good girl.”