“I can’t picture you in New York,” she muses.
“It’s not the place for me. Too many people. The crowds, the noise, the traffic.”
“The food, the sights,” Sienna counters, always looking on the bright side.
My sexy little optimist.
She digs around in the pantry and the fridge. I watch as she pulls out garlic, tomatoes, and bell peppers. She rummages around for a baking sheet and hums as she works.
“You really do like cooking,” I comment.
“I did it with my grandma all the time,” she says, smiling fondly at the memories. “To be honest, it’s been sad cooking for just myself for the last year. Why? Do you not want me to cook here?”
I snort, shaking my head. “I’d have to be a fucking idiot to complain about a good home-cooked meal.”
She smiles happily and goes back to work, and I smile as I watch her.
“What about your family?” she asks.
I sigh. “Picture a stereotypical Upper West Side family, and you’ve pretty much nailed it.”
“I’ve never been to New York.”
“They’re egotistical. All they care about is their money, their social standing, and their public image. They’re exhausting to be around because everything always comes back to those three things. They’re snobby, and I know they’ll take one look at you and declare you’re beneath them and our family name.”
“So maybe you should find someone else to play pretend with,” she says quietly.
“There’s no one else. It’s you I want, Sienna.”
“To piss off your family?”
I shake my head, but she’s busy sliding the baking tray into the oven and doesn’t see me.
“Why do you want your inheritance so bad? You said your grandpa owed you last night.”
I grind my teeth. “He does. He was an asshole my whole life. So controlling. Bossed everyone around and expected them to jump when he said so. Used money to keep people in line. He wasn’t a nice man, and didn’t use his power or control for good. He was a narcissist, and it killed him that I never fell into line. He tried everything, but I kept bucking.”
“What do you mean he tried everything?” she asks worriedly.
“He beat me,” I say bluntly.
Sienna flinches, looking horrified. “Heath, I’m so sorry,” she says, stepping toward me.
“It’s fine. I survived. He’s dead.”
She doesn’t look convinced.
I lean back in my chair. “It’s fine, Sienna. I’m fine. We never got along, hence why I was the only one with a requirement in the will.”
She frowns. “But why marriage?”
“Because I never looked at a girl twice in my life. I never wanted to settle down. I didn’t want the life they had planned for me.”
“They had a wife picked out for you?” she asks in disbelief.
“Yeah. Maybe not anything nailed down, but I’m sure they had a list of options.”
She huffs. “That’s so… messed up.”
