Читать книгу An Heir For The Billionaire - Kat Cantrell - Страница 9

Four

Somehow, Reid dialed back his crushing desire and escorted Nora into the dining room. Maybe eating would take the edge off well enough to figure out what he wanted from this evening. And how to get it.

Since the servants had the night off, he played the proper host and served the gazpacho his chef had prepared earlier that day.

“This looks amazing, Reid,” Nora commented and dug in.

A woman with a healthy appetite. Reid watched her eat out of the corner of his eye, which wasn’t hard since she was sitting kitty-corner to him at the long teakwood table that he’d picked up on a trip to Bangalore.

The hard part was reminding his body that they’d moved on to dinner. It didn’t seem to have gotten the message. Friendship or seduction? He had to pick a direction. Soon.

“I trust it’s sufficient?” he asked without a trace of irony as Nora spooned the last bite into her candy-pink mouth. Not only had she actually eaten, she’d done it without mussing her lipstick.

That was talent. Of course, now his gaze couldn’t seem to unfasten from her mouth as she nodded enthusiastically.

“So great. I’m jealous of your private chef.” She sighed dramatically. “I wish I had one. I have to cook for myself, which I don’t mind. But some days, it sure would be nice to pass that off to someone else.”

“Why don’t you hire someone?” he suggested. “It’s truly worth it in the end to have control over the fat and sodium content of what goes into your body.”

“When did you become a health nut?”

“When I realized I wasn’t going to live forever and that every bad thing I put in my mouth would speed me on my way to the grave.”

It was a throwaway comment that any man in his thirties might make, but he actually meant it. When you spent a lot of time alone, you needed a hobby. His was his health. He read as many articles and opinion pieces about longevity as he could, tailoring his workouts and eating habits around tried-and-true practices. At one point, he’d even hired a personal dietician but fired him soon after Reid had realized he knew more than the “professional.”

Staying healthy was a small tribute to his late mother and sister. They’d had their lives cut short, so Reid had decided he’d live as long as he could. And he wanted to be in the best shape possible for that.

“Good point. I wish it was as simple as you make it sound.” She smiled wistfully. “But my bank account doesn’t allow for things like private chefs.”

He did a double take. “Did something happen to your father’s fortune?”

Surely not. The scandal of Carson Newport’s parentage wouldn’t have reached the epic proportions that it had if Sutton were broke. Word was that Newport wanted as much of Winchester’s estate as he could get his hands on. Though they’d crossed paths a few times, Newport wasn’t someone Reid spoke to about private matters, so he could only speculate. But he didn’t think Newport was in it for the money. Vengeance, more likely. Which was a shame. Winchester had it coming, but that meant Nora would be caught up in the drama, as well.

Perhaps Newport had already gotten his mitts on Nora’s share?

But she shook her head. “Oh, no. Dad’s money is well intact. I just don’t have any of it. Walking away from Chicago meant walking away from everything. Including my trust fund.”

Reid blinked. “Really? You renounced your inheritance?”

“Really. I don’t want a dime of that money. It’s tainted with the blood of all the people my dad has hurt over the years anyway. Plus, money is the root of all evil, right?” She shrugged one shoulder philosophically. “I’ve been much happier without it.”

“Love of money is the root of all evil,” Reid automatically corrected. Nearly everyone got that quote wrong. “It’s a warning against allowing money to control you. Allowing it to make you into a terrible person in order to get more.”

“Is that a dig at my dad?”

It had actually been a dig at his own father, not hers. Reid contemplated her before responding truthfully. “No. But it applies.”

Sutton Winchester was cut from the same cloth as John Chamberlain, no doubt. Nora’s father just hadn’t had the courtesy to rid the world of his evil presence the way Reid’s father had. Not yet anyway.

“Oh, have you dealt with my dad, then?”

Her slight smile said she knew exactly how much of a bastard her father was, but that didn’t mean she deserved the full brunt of Reid’s honest opinion of the man. Whether this evening consisted of two friends reconnecting or two friends connecting in a whole new way remained to be seen, but he imagined bad-mouthing Nora’s father wouldn’t benefit either scenario.

“Let’s just say that we’ve got a solid truce and as long as he stays in his corner, I stay in mine.”

That was a mild and very politically correct way to put it. Because when it came to business, Winchester fought dirty. His misdeeds had included paying off a judge to rule against a Chamberlain Group rezoning request, planting a spy at a relatively high level in Reid’s organization and—the pièce de résistance—attempting to poison Chamberlain Group’s reputation in the media with false allegations about Reid’s ties to the mob. Winchester had gall. Reid had patience, influence and money—he’d won in the end.

“Well, I’m sure my father is the poster child for what happens to people who love money more than their own family,” she said without hesitation. “It’s part of the reason I left. I got tired of living the life of a socialite, doing nothing more meaningful than being photographed in the latest fashion or showing up at a charity event. Money doesn’t buy anything worthwhile.”

He topped off both wineglasses and served the main course, cold lamb and pasta, then picked up the thread of the conversation. “When used correctly, money is a tool that makes life better.”

“Doesn’t seem to have done that for you,” she pointed out, tilting her wineglass toward him in emphasis. “You shut yourself up in this billion-dollar prison. I’ve been in your presence twice now, and I have yet to see any evidence that money has made you happy.”

What would she say if he agreed with her? If he said that money had done nothing but give his father the power to rip away Reid’s soul? First by never being any kind of a father figure and then by taking his family with him on his journey to judgment day. The elder Chamberlain had picked his three-million-dollar Eclipse 550 as his weapon of choice, crashing the small jet deliberately and killing his wife and daughter.

Reid hadn’t been on board. He’d been too busy chasing that next dollar.

Scary how alike he and his father were. You could run, but you couldn’t hide from genetics. That’s why Reid hadn’t hesitated to say no when Nash came looking for someone to take in Sophia’s twins. Reid wasn’t father material. Reid was barely human material.

Money hadn’t insulated him from heartache; it only afforded him the means to create what Nora called a prison. To him, it was a refuge.

“I like being alone,” he finally said. “Having more money than the Bank of Switzerland allows me the luxury of kicking people out of my presence whenever I deem it necessary.”