Page 14 of Price of Victory (The Saints of Westmont U #5)

“It’s strange you keep an eye on our net worth.” Rhett’s expression tightened slightly, and he set down the bag of snacks. “Why would I need more? I live with my friends, I study the same as they do, and I don’t have to worry about my next meal. Is that so bad?”

“Never said it was bad,” I replied, leaning back in the chair. “But there aren’t many people out there as lucky as you, and you’re letting it go to waste.”

“You’re using enough privileges for a whole lot of us,” he shot back, but there was curiosity in his voice rather than accusation.

I laughed, because he wasn’t wrong. “ Touché . But don’t you ever want more? Don’t you ever think about what you could do with those kinds of resources?”

“Like what? Buy a penthouse apartment I’d never use? A car that costs more than most people make in a year?” He shook his head. “I don’t see the point.”

“The point is freedom. The point is having options.” I tried to find a way to explain it that wouldn’t sound completely shallow. “When you have money, you don’t have to worry about whether you can afford to take risks. You can pursue opportunities that other people can’t.”

“But I don’t want those opportunities. I want to play hockey and get my degree and figure out what comes next. I don’t need a trust fund to do that.”

There was something admirable about his conviction, even if I didn’t entirely understand it. I’d grown up with money as a tool, something to be leveraged and used strategically. The idea of deliberately living without it seemed almost incomprehensible to me.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” Rhett continued, studying my face. “Money changes things. It changes how people look at you, how they treat you, what they expect from you. When I’m here, living like this, I’m just another student. Nobody cares who my father is or how much my family is worth.”

“But they’d care if they knew.”

“Exactly. So why would I want them to know?”

I considered this, turning it over in my mind.

There was a logic to it that I’d never really thought about before.

I’d always seen wealth as an advantage, something that opened doors and created opportunities.

The idea that someone might view it as a burden, something to be hidden rather than flaunted, was foreign to me.

“Don’t you ever feel like you’re lying to them? Your friends, your teammates?”

“I’m not lying. I’m just not telling them everything.” He pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them in a gesture that made him look younger than his twenty-two years. “There’s a difference.”

We talked for a while about wealth and privilege, about the different ways we’d grown up and the different perspectives that had shaped us.

He told me about his parents and grandparents, how they’d built their business from nothing and still remembered what it was like to struggle.

I found myself sharing more than I’d intended about the pressure that came with being Richard Whitmore’s son, the expectations and the weight of family legacy.

“Your apartment,” Rhett said at one point. “The one you’re living in now. Is it actually yours?”

“Technically, it belongs to a subsidiary of my father’s company. But for all practical purposes, yes.”

“And you don’t feel weird about living in a place you didn’t pay for?”

I shrugged. “Should I? It’s not like I had much choice in where I was born or who my parents are.”

“But you could choose to live differently.”

“I could. But why would I want to make things harder for myself just to prove a point?”

He was quiet for a moment, considering this. “I guess I’ve never thought about it that way. For me, living like this isn’t making things harder. It’s making them simpler.”

There was something in his voice, a contentment that I envied despite myself. I’d spent my entire life accumulating advantages, using every resource available to me, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt the kind of peace that seemed to radiate from him when he talked about his simple life.

“What about parties?” I asked, changing the subject slightly. “Don’t you ever want to experience the kind of events your family could get you into?”

“You mean like charity galas where everyone spends the evening trying to network their way into better business deals?” He made a face. “I’ve been to enough of those to last a lifetime.”

“Not all of them are like that.”

“No? What are they like?”

I tried to think of a way to describe the world I’d grown up in, the exclusive events and private clubs and gatherings where fortunes were made and lost over cocktails. “They’re…educational. You learn how the world really works, how decisions get made, who has power and how they use it.”

“That sounds terrifying.”

“It can be. But it’s also exhilarating. There’s something addictive about being in a room where everyone understands that everything is a game and the stakes are higher than most people can imagine.”

Rhett was looking at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read, something that might have been curiosity mixed with concern. “Is that what you want? To be part of that game?”

The question caught me off guard, partly because I’d never really thought about it in those terms. “I don’t know if it’s what I want, but it’s what I’m good at. And it’s what’s expected of me.”

“Those aren’t the same thing.”

“No, they’re not.”

We lapsed into silence again, both of us lost in our own thoughts.

I found myself studying his face in the soft light from his desk lamp, noting the way his features had softened since we’d started talking.

The sharp edges of anger and defensiveness were gone, replaced by something more open and genuine.

“Can I ask you something?” he said eventually.

“Sure.”

“Your father. What happened to him?”

I felt my entire body tense, the relaxed atmosphere in the room shifting instantly. “I’d rather discuss anything else.”

It wasn’t angry or spiteful, just a simple statement of fact. There were some topics that were off-limits, and my father’s health was definitely one of them. Not here, not with Rhett, not when things between us felt fragile and new.

Rhett nodded immediately, and I was grateful that he didn’t push. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s fine. Just…I’d have a better time talking about chlamydia.”

“I get it.”

And somehow, I believed that he did. There was understanding in his expression, the kind that came from having his own family dynamics to navigate.

The conversation shifted to safer topics after that.

He told me about his classes, his professors, the books he was reading for pleasure rather than requirement.

I found myself talking about my own academic interests, the subjects that genuinely fascinated me rather than the ones I was taking because they were practical for business school.

It was strange, this easy back-and-forth between us.

We’d spent so long antagonizing each other that I’d forgotten we were both intelligent people with actual thoughts and opinions beyond our family rivalry.

Rhett was funny when he wasn’t being defensive, with a dry sense of humor that caught me off guard.

And he was curious about things, asking questions that made me think about topics I’d never really considered before.

Hours passed without either of us noticing.

We talked about movies, about travel and places we wanted to see, about the future and what we might want to do after graduation.

It wasn’t deep philosophical discussion, but it wasn’t superficial, either.

It was the kind of conversation that happened between people who were genuinely interested in getting to know each other.

When I finally glanced at the clock on his desk, I was shocked to see it was nearly two in the morning.

“Shit,” I said, standing up and stretching muscles that had gone stiff from sitting in the desk chair. “I should let you get some sleep. You probably have classes tomorrow.”

Rhett looked surprised, like he’d lost track of time, too. “Oh. Right. Yeah, I have Economics at nine.”

“I’m sorry for keeping you up.”

“You didn’t keep me up. I could have kicked you out whenever I wanted to.”

There was something in his voice, a slight uncertainty that made me think he was about to say something else. Maybe offer to let me stay or suggest we do this again sometime. For a moment, I considered waiting to see what he would say, but then I thought better of it.

This had been good, whatever this was. Better than I’d expected, better than I’d had any right to hope for. But I didn’t want to push it, didn’t want to overstay my welcome and ruin whatever progress we’d made tonight.

“Thanks for the snacks,” I said, grabbing my jacket from where I’d draped it over the back of the chair.

“Thanks for the umbrella.”

I headed for the door, then paused with my hand on the handle. “This was…nice. Talking to you like a normal person instead of trying to figure out how to get under each other’s skin.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “It was.”

I let myself out and made my way back downstairs, retrieving my umbrella from where I’d left it by the entrance. The rain had slowed to a light drizzle, and the walk back to my car wasn’t nearly as miserable as the trip from the gym had been.

As I drove back to my apartment, I found myself thinking about the evening in a way that felt unfamiliar.

For once, I hadn’t had a goal or a mission or a challenge to overcome.

I hadn’t been trying to prove anything or gain any advantage.

I’d just had a conversation with another human being, and it had been pleasant.

More than pleasant, actually. It had been the kind of evening that made me remember why I’d been drawn to Rhett in the first place, beyond all the family drama and sexual tension and competitive rivalry.

Underneath all the complications, he was someone I actually enjoyed talking to.

Not that he would ever stoop so low as to admit I was a good conversationalist, too.

That was a dangerous realization, and I wasn’t entirely sure what to do with it. But as I pulled into my building’s parking garage and took the elevator up to my empty apartment, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between us tonight.