Page 234 of The First Taste

"It would help if it were in a better neighborhood and not in a neighborhood that looks like it’s about to break off from the town and float away to drown in the sea."

I scrunch up my face.

"Being so close to the water has indeed taken a toll on the building," I say with a slow nod. "You know, I found out that Remy Morgan owns the whole neighborhood? I saw the mortgage check in the office yesterday, and it goes straight to Morgan Investment Company, not an actual bank. That’s the Morgan family, isn’t it?"

"I think the Morgans do own a bank." Olivia’s eyes narrow, and she looks off speculatively. "I know that they own most of the land that the hospital is on and that whole surrounding neighborhood too."

"Ugh, like they need to own another thing. The Morgans are the main charitable source in this town. But they are also the biggest contributors to our problems as a society. This capitalist stuff completely sucks."

A trace of a smile passes over Olivia’s lips as she takes a sip of her drink. "It’s hard to thrive when you weren't born into money. There are people living among us that want to drain our life savings away a little bit at a time. It’s obscene, really."

I pull a face. "I bet Remy Morgan and his heirs don’t have to worry about anything at all. They just live up there at their huge estate, being smarmy, throwing galas, drinking expensive cocktails, and laughing as they crush commoners with their feet."

"That’s a bit much. But yes, I bet the Morgans do live a different lifestyle than I am accustomed to."

"Getting an audience with Remy Morgan is practically impossible. He has teams of publicists and bodyguards and other people to act as a barrier between himself and the hoi polloi."

"Have you tried visiting his house again?"

I give a cold little laugh. "Not since the other night. It turns out that when the Morgans are hosting a lavish gala, it’s impossible to get past the doorman and armed security guards to see the man himself. I even tried to show up at a ribbon-cutting ceremony that he had yesterday. I’m pretty sure that I’m on a list of would-be stalkers now."

"What about Burn? You said that he made you an offer of some kind."

My lips twist. "He did make me an offer. But it definitely sucked for me. In exchange for reminding him of just what happened the night we hooked up, I get an audience with Remy. But that doesn’t even promise me anything. Remy could take one look at me and send me away. There is just no guarantee. It has been a pretty frustrating experience all around."

"What’s your next plan of attack? Should you take Burn up on his weird offer? Or do you have another strategy up your sleeve?"

I shake my head. "I don’t know exactly. I just know that Minnie says that unless we pay a lot of money to some very bad people, those people are going to come looking for the money. She said that Hope House could potentially be affected too. So I’m not sure what to do. The only thing I know for sure is that I have to help Minnie, I have to save Hope House, and Remy Morgan could be the answer to all my problems. If, and it’s a big if, he is feeling charitable and generous."

"You know, Minnie is your aunt. She’s not one of the kids at Hope House. She is completely capable of making her own decisions and taking care of herself."

"Is she, though? I’m not sure. Apparently she went to a bunch of sketchy loan sharks and asked them for money to save Hope House. She put up our house as collateral. She’s gotten herself into a situation that looks bleak. I am wondering now if she should’ve been asked a lot more questions before these people just gave her money."

Olivia reaches out, putting her fingers gently on my arm. She looks me dead in the eye. "You are not responsible for her. She is responsible for you. You’re her kid."

"Well…" I look away, steeling myself before continuing. "Technically, I’m not her kid. I’m her niece. And she did me a huge favor by taking me in when my mom dumped me off at Hope House and vanished. I’ve been trying to be as quiet and small and helpful as humanly possible ever since I was old enough to be a person. I’ve tried to model myself after Aunt Minnie, to be as helpful, giving, and generous as her."

She squeezes my arm again. "I know, Talia. I think you have done a good job of that, given the circumstances."

I exhale a long, shaky breath. "You know, we might have scrimped and saved and counted every single penny when I was growing up. And yes, sometimes we went through really lean times because Aunt Minnie pledged more than we had to give away. But I’ll always owe her. I mean, how do I repay someone who basically gave up her life for me?"

Olivia sets her glass down and looks at me sharply. "I know that Aunt Minnie does not feel that way. You live your whole life trying to be small and to blend in with the wallpaper. I’ve watched it happen time and again. But I think that right now is the perfect time for you to step out of the shadows and form a new, more confident identity. I think that your Aunt Minnie would want you to do so."

I roll my eyes and wave her off. "Olivia, quit being nice. You have to sugarcoat the truth for my sake."

"I am not," she says. "I’m telling you the truth."

I stare at her for several long seconds, trying to figure out what her angle is. But when she doesn’t waver, I relent, sighing. "Sorry, Olivia. I’m probably bad company right now. Maybe I should go."

She points a finger at me, putting me in place with her gaze. "Don’t you dare. You’ve hardly even touched your drink."

I shrug and stay in my place, but I don’t pick up the drink. I’m about to open my mouth to tell her that I don’t think I am in the mood. I twist in my seat, my mouth bunching up, when, out of the corner of my eye, I see the last person I would expect to frequent this place.

Tall, dark, and dressed in a big black overcoat, he's still as handsome as ever. Burn Morgan.

He follows the host toward the back of the bar, heading away from me. With him is a tall, refined looking blonde man in a navy three-piece suit and a brown suede overcoat.

I suck in a breath and, with my head down, bring up a hand to shield my face. Seeing the man who I hooked up with, whose hands I can still easily imagine on my hips and thighs, makes the blood rush to my cheeks. I feel as if I might faint.