Page 37 of Rebellious Hearts

“But since this project does lean heavily on financial input, money is a big factor and I’m not going to tiptoe around it like it doesn’t exist. You see, the difference between people like me and people like you is that money doesn’t scare me.”

“What do you mean, ‘people like you and people like me’?” I challenged.

“I mean someone at the top of the financial and social food chain and someone scraping around the bottom.”

I gasped. The audacity!

I stood up and pushed back the straight-backed chair. It would have been more dramatic if the chair had fallen back with how quickly I’d stood, but the chairs were too heavy.

“You don’t know anything about me,” I spat at him. “You think one night between the sheets gives you the right to talk to me like that, but I know who I am and what I’m doing.”

I grabbed my bag with my laptop that I’d brought along just in case and hoisted it onto my shoulder.

“That goes both ways, you know,” Ben said. “You don’t know me, either.”

“And the more I spend time with you, the more I realize I don’t really want to know more.”

I turned on my heel and marched away with the last word. Ben didn’t say something to my back or call me back to the table, and I kept walking.

I should have felt vindicated by how I’d snapped at him and put him in his place with my well-aimed insult there at the end.

But all I felt was sick.

The truth was that Ididwant to know him better. Even if he was a pain in my ass, even if he was the grumpiest man I’d ever met. There had been parts of him showing earlier that were nothing like the grumpy Blackwood brother I’d just left behind.

When I’d shown him how to make his wineglass sing.

And when he’d talked about coffee.

I’d caught a glimpse there of something more, something I had a feeling Ben Blackwood hid very far down.

That was the part I wanted to reach. That was the part I wanted to get to know. But if he was going to be an ass about it, then I wouldn’t dig through all the drama to get there.

I told myself that that was the way to look at things. I was justified.

And still, I felt like shit for saying what I had, and I wish I’d done things differently. But still, I had my pride and turning around to apologize now would just look pathetic.

My pride and my conscience warred with each other until I locked myself in my room and slid to the ground with my back against the door, allowing my pride to win out.

I ran over the argument in my mind again and again. The one thing that made what I’d said worse was Ben’s unbreakable poker face. The one he used to hide all the soft, bright parts of him that I’d seen flashes of. The one he used to keep the world out, I was guessing.

The one he’d used now to keep me out, too.

11

BEN

“He didn’t take long with this one,” I said to Sofia when we walked into the living room area situated opposite the dining room. Plush, comfortable sofas and armchairs were arranged intimately around full-length windows that overlooked a private beach, and a modern fireplace, not lit but still spectacular, added a charm to the space.

Sofia ran her fingers along the sleek coffee table. She had this sense of wonder at things that I’d never really noticed before. It made me notice them. The way she looked at the world was enticing.

“At least now we’ll know what to expect and there won’t be a lot of time where we’re left wondering.” She sat back in the armchair she’d chosen. Had she chosen that chair so that I couldn’t sit right next to her? I was overthinking it.

But she was uptight today, and the atmosphere between us was strained.

Yesterday she’d been so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and ready to take on the meeting with a positive attitude. This side of Sofia was so different; I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Shedidn’t look at me, and I found myself craving that mercury stare, even if it was filled with disdain.

“Here he is now,” Sofia said, nodding toward the door, and we stood.