Page 22 of Van Cort

She pauses, and I can see her weigh the offer. “I’ll go pack then,” she whispers.

“Good.”

Twenty minutes later, we’re on the road.

I don’t tell her where we’re going. I just let her look at the scenery as we pass through the hours, and we talk through some issues she has at work.

There aren’t many other than her feeling frustrated with her boss.

It’s all average conversation – dull really, and I wouldn’t tolerate it from others, but she still absorbs me with her way of discussing business.

She’s clever, talented by the sounds of it, and highly skilled.

All things that West will find deeply uninteresting, but for me, it’s relatively fascinating to have a mind equal to my own when it comes to financial acumen.

The border crossing comes and goes, and she starts moving around in the seat to look at the views again.

“I’ve never been to Canada before,” she says. I turn off the freeway, taking her the scenic way. “All this time I’ve lived here and I never even thought about it. It’s astounding. Do you come here often?”

“I grew up here. I’m taking you home.” Her head whips round to look at me rather than the view. “Don’t worry. There aren’t any parents to meet.”

“Where are they?”

“Dead.”

“Oh. Everett, I’m so sorry.”

“No need to be.”

She’s quiet for a while after that.

Until we reach my hometown.

“Vandencort? You have a town named after you?” she says, shocked.

“One of my forefathers does, yes.”

“And how much of it do you still play a part in?”

I look at the general stores as we pass them, and the run of bakeries and coffee shops that I invested heavily in a few years ago. “All of it. It’s where the generational wealth originates from. Gold mining at first, and then business and commerce followed.”

She laughs a little, but it seems uneasy, like she hasn’t quite worked out how much I’m worth. “I can’t see you panning for gold.”

I smile. “I used to.” When we were children. I used to do a lot of stupid things then.

“You’ll have to show me how.”

The road out of town curves a few more miles through the forest and leads us downhill to the main drive.

I look at the small road to the right, frowning as I pass by the way to the staff cottages, and carry on.

There’s nothing else down here. Just us.

And, as usual, the sight pulls all my attention as it widens.

She gasps beside me and leans forward, craning her head left and right as the house, lake and grounds come into view.

“Jesus Christ, Everett,” she exclaims. “This is home?” Not anymore. “Are there rivers of gold?”

The vast expanse of white timber gleams under the sun, still pristine despite no one living here, and that same light bounces off the lake reflecting the trees and mountains around it.

My gaze follows the lines of the two large wings jutting out, encasing the ornamental gardens before the lawn starts.

It’s a hell of a place regardless of my hatred of it.

Always was. Van Cort meant business when it came to displaying wealth. Still does, I suppose.

Pulling to a stop, I stare down at the boathouse across the lawn, hands tightening on the steering wheel. It still seems like yesterday in some ways, and the only difference now is our age and the lack of my brother here with me.

“Everett?” I come out of my fog and look at Andie. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Why?”

“You seemed a million miles away for a moment.” I was.

I lean over and kiss her, part ready to dispel any memories and part ready to indulge in them. She sighs into me and lets her hand wander to my thigh, back, neck, until she breaks the kiss and looks back out at the view.

“I don’t know why you’d ever leave this place,” she muses.

“Because beauty does not always mean contentment.” Pulling away again, I drive us down to the house and stop. “Maybe you can change my mind about that.”

“Me? Casual relationships don’t usually mean contentment.”

“Do you want casual, Andie? Is that all you want from me?”

She gets out of the car rather than answering me and takes long, deep breaths, pulling in all the clean air she can.

I watch her from the car as she ambles the driveway and looks into the trees, happy with the sight of her here.

Lithe limbs move her around freely, and sheer beauty almost dazzles in this light.

She lets her hair out of the clip and it tumbles, as if finally released from its confines.

We could be that - free.

I huff and rest my head back. She’ll make a fine wife. And presumably a good mother. She’ll look the part, and play the part to perfection, and she can stay here and look after this house for me.

That’s all the sensible deliberations dealt with.

Unfortunately, and because of West’s influence, I don’t feel very sensible around her anymore.

Eventually, having mulled over the proposition in my head a little more, I get out and wait for her to return to me. She walks slowly, as if she’s been considering what I asked.

“If I didn’t want something purely casual, and I was to consider moving to a serious relationship, what would your terms be?” She asks as I take her hand and lead her to the main entrance, opening the door.

“I’d want to discuss commitment, feelings.” She gazes, as if those two words are hitting home like I need them to. “The future.”

I turn her away from me so she can stare into the expansive hall filled with ornate finery and dead animals and wrap my arm around her waist. “Could you imagine yourself climbing those stairs, Andie?” They lead straight up and curve each way at the top, as wide and imposing as they’ve always been and still flanked by hunting trophies.

“This could all be yours if we play this correctly.” She stiffens a little.

“But first, I’d want you to do everything I asked.

I’d need to make sure. Could you do that for me? ”

“Everything?”

“Hmm.”

“That’s a high opening offer. Why?”

“Compatibility.”

She turns her face to look at me. “I think we’re pretty compatible already.”

“Are we? Are you on contraception?”

“How is that relevant to compatibility?”

“Do you want a family?” I press.

Her eyes fly wide, and I like the shock on her face. “One day. Probably.”

“Then you’re on contraception. Good.” I let go of her and walk a small circle so we’re facing each other. “Why are you avoiding sucking me off?”

Both her eyebrows shoot up. “Wow. That’s a question I didn’t expect.”

“We’ve covered everything else. And it’s a question I didn’t expect to have to ask. Why don’t you like it?”

She folds her arms over each other defensively. “It’s not a question of like. Perhaps I find it a little demeaning. Uncomfortable.”

“Putting your mouth around the most sensitive part of me isn’t demeaning, it’s empowering. You’ll literally have me between your teeth. Come here.” She does, slowly, cautiously. “Drop to your knees for me.”

“Here?”

“Yes.”

She looks around. “You’re not serious?”

“Very. Get on with it. Just discussing it with you is making me ravenous.” She smirks, still standing rather than kneeling. “Do I need to get dominant with you?” She smiles but still doesn’t move, assessing her move, or teasing the moment.

I pull her to me sharply, enough pressure in the move that she puffs out a breath and loses the smile.

“Knees. Now.” There are a few seconds of her eyeballing me, but her hands reach for my belt soon enough, and she drops her gaze.

“Eyes up here. Keep looking at me.” She tugs at the leather, flicks the button on my pants.

“All the way through it.” She looks up and starts lowering to her knees.

“I want you to watch me buckle for you. Make sure you swallow.”