"People change," I said, keeping my voice even.
"It's been thirty years."
Catherine laughed, the sound genuinely amused.
"Oh, my dear. Men like Lucas don't change. They become more adept at appearing to change when it serves their purpose."
The first course arrived—tiny, perfectly portioned servings of something artistic and undoubtedly expensive. I took a small bite, needing the moment to compose my response.
"Did you invite me here to warn me off?" I asked when the waiter had departed. "To share cautionary tales about your Lucas?"
"Not at all." She looked genuinely surprised at the suggestion. "I invited you here to understand what Lucas sees in you. What makes you different from the string of polished, disposable women who've warmed his bed over the decades."
The casual cruelty of her assessment stung, but I refused to show it.
"And have you found your answer?"
She tilted her head, studying me with renewed interest.
"Beginning to. There's a directness to you I can appreciate. An unwillingness to be managed that must simultaneously attract and infuriate him."
"I'm not sure if I should be flattered or insulted."
"Neither. Simply observed." Catherine set down her fork, leaning forward slightly. "Do you love him, Savannah? Truly? Or is this about rebellion, excitement, the thrill of the forbidden?"
The question—so direct, so unexpected—caught me off guard.
"Why would you care about my feelings for Lucas?"
"I don't, particularly." She shrugged one elegant shoulder.
"But I care deeply about my son. About what this revelation might do to him when the inevitable gossip reaches his ears."
Miles.
Of course, this was about Miles.
I should have realized the maternal instinct would be her primary motivation.
"Miles and I ended things months before Lucas and I..." I paused, searching for the right word. "Connected."
"Connected," she repeated, amusement coloring her tone.
"Such a delicate euphemism for what I imagine is a rather passionate affair."
I refused to be baited. "My relationship with your son was over. Completely. I didn't leave him for Lucas, if that's what you're implying."
"No, Miles ended things with you, as I understand it." Her gaze sharpened.
"Did that sting? Make you receptive to attention from the more powerful Turner? The original rather than the copy?"
My hand tightened around my champagne flute, temper flaring.
"I think we're done here."
"We haven't even reached the main course," she observed mildly.
"And I haven't shared what I brought you here to tell you."
