A Year With the Millionaire Next Door Read online

  Stella’s insides swooped. “A private dinner?” For her?

  “Knowing how you hate leaving Toffee with a sitter, I was afraid you might grow impatient taking time for both dinner and sightseeing. Therefore, I decided to multitask. Of course, if you’re feeling awkward, we can tell them to let on a few more passengers.”

  A worker hurried past them to place a large square box in the center before hurrying off again. Pizza. That’s when she noticed the ice bucket didn’t contain champagne, but rather a growler of British brown ale. “I’m not sure we have enough food for guests,” she said. The pizza only had eight slices.

  “I was trying to stay low-key. The gesture felt romantic enough as it was.”

  And heaven forbid she get the wrong idea. “Pizza and beer are perfect,” she replied.

  The pod doors slid closed, leaving them to begin their ascent. The Plexiglas space was purposely designed to hold multiple passengers. Despite this, it felt very small and crowded. Linus was the kind of man whose presence took up a lot of space, no matter what size the room. She could feel his energy all around them.

  While he busied himself with pouring the beer, Stella took a slice of pizza and walked to the window. Linus was right. London was a beautiful city. Although sunset was still a few hours away, Big Ben blocked the late-day glare, allowing them a perfect view of Westminster Abbey and Westminster Bridge. Across the way tour boats drifted up and down the river. They ate standing up, and as they moved higher, she spotted Tower Bridge in the distance. She could also see Trafalgar Square with its columned tribute to Admiral Nelson in the center.

  “It’s amazing,” she told Linus.

  He took a sip from his beer. “The best time for a ride is right at sunset, but this isn’t bad. Look off in the distance. You should be able to just see Buckingham Palace through the trees.”

  For the next several minutes, Linus played tour guide, pointing out landmarks and providing amusing anecdotes. Buildings he didn’t know, he cheekily made up. Stella guessed this when he described one building as the Ministry of Monkey Business.

  “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” she remarked. His patter was too smooth and polished to be the first time.

  He ducked his head, pink streaking his cheekbones. “Once or twice. Never served them pizza and beer, though.”

  More like champagne and truffles, she bet. Knowing he put in the extra effort to do something different made her feel special. Respected.

  “Which building is your company?” she asked.

  “Hold on.” Setting his beer on the window ledge, he stepped behind her and grasped her shoulders, gently angling her body eastward. “Do you see that high-rise tower with the gray slanted roof? Next to what looks like a greenway? Colliers is about two blocks northeast.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.” All Stella could see were rooftops. Linus remained behind her with his hands resting on her shoulders. The half embrace was warm and soothing, like being draped in a blanket. He’d long since shed his jacket in favor of rolled shirtsleeves. Stella swore she could feel his shirt buttons brushing the zipper of her dress. If she relaxed her neck, her head would rest on his shoulder.

  “Are you having a good time?” he asked, the timbre of his voice running through them both.

  “Very.” Hearing the way her voice sounded—like a breathy whisper—startled her back to reality. She pulled away, clearing an imaginary frog as she did so. “Very,” she repeated. “I wish we had something like this in New York. We have the Empire State Building and the Freedom Tower, but...well, I guess they offer the same thing except you’re not moving.” She was babbling. Where was her beer?

  “Here.” Coming to her rescue, as usual, Linus appeared with her glass. “Need more?”

  “Please.” Her cheeks were still warm.

  He lifted the growler from the bucket and filled both their glasses. “Speaking of New York. You never said what it is you did there, or rather, what it is you hope to return to.”

  “Didn’t I?”

  “Only that you worked for a consulting firm,” he replied, handing over her glass.

  “Not a consulting firm. The top international consulting firm in the city.” Every time she said that, a bundle of nerves went off in her stomach. “It’s incredibly competitive to get hired. They only take the top candidates.”

  “Congratulations, then.”

  “Thank you.” But the good wishes felt undeserved. Was that why she was doing such a hard sales job?

  “They must think very highly of you if they were willing to grant you a leave of absence.”

  “Either that or they’re afraid of a lawsuit.” It was a joke, but it fell awkwardly. Maybe because it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. “Anyway, I was hired to do risk assessment. Analyze companies’ plans for expansion and so on.”

  “Sounds interesting.”

  She hoped so. “It’s definitely a field with room for growth, that’s for sure.” Sipping her drink, she strolled to the other side of the pod, where St. Paul’s dome could be seen shining in the sunlight.

  “Which is important,” Linus remarked. “Growth potential.”

  “Of course. Not much of a career if you can’t move up the ladder.”

  “Number one or nothing.”

  “What?” He’d spoken softly, almost as if talking to himself.

  “I said, number one or nothing. You gave me the impression that it’s your family motto.”

  Right. She remembered her embarrassing behavior that night. “In case you forgot, I was a little drunk. I said and did a lot of stupid things.”

  “No, you didn’t.” Said in a gentle voice, the words took Stella aback. Linus closed the distance between them. “Haven’t you ever heard the phrase in vino veritas?”

  In wine, truth. She rolled her eyes. “Wine also brings on pity parties.”

  “Is that what happened?”

  Which time? When she bemoaned being the family loser or when she kissed him? The kiss was...a moment of weakness. A foolish overreaction to someone making her feel special.

  “I have a lot of regret over what happened in New York. I spent my entire life working my tail off only to blow it by freezing up while on the job. If you were in my shoes, wouldn’t you indulge in a pity party or two?”

  “I suppose I would.”

  But... The unspoken word hung there between them. Stella resisted rubbing her shoulders. Sometimes it felt as though Linus didn’t believe her answers. He had this way of looking at her as though he were looking beyond her surface and trying to read her thoughts.

  She studied him back, taking in the way he leaned against the window rail and drank his beer. The relaxed posture was deceptive. She could tell from the way his index finger tapped the railing that he was mulling over his next comment.

  “Go ahead,” she said. “You obviously have something you want to add.”

  “Not really. I was thinking, is all.”

  “About what?”

  His attention dropped to his glass. “I couldn’t help but notice that when you were talking about cataloging Agnes’s memorabilia, you were so excited you were practically bouncing. Yet, when it came time to talking about the job that you call your life’s goal, you had far less enthusiasm. Hardly any, to be honest.”

  “Because cataloging Agnes’s belongings is my current job. New York is still a year away. Doesn’t it make sense that I would be more enthusiastic about the work I’m actually doing? I’m sure when next spring arrives, I’ll sound equally bouncy. More so.”

  “You’re right,” he said.

  “I know I am.” Even as she defended herself, an uneasiness twisted in her stomach. Dammit, he was making her doubt herself.

  Linus again contemplating his beer didn’t help. “May I ask one more question?’ he asked her.

  “What?” W
hy ask for permission? He was going to ask whether she said yes or no.

  “Your plan is to climb as high up the corporate ladder as possible, right? What are you going to do if you can’t move up? If you aren’t able to take the risk-assessment world by storm?”

  Failure wasn’t an option. “This isn’t like your family company where everyone stays for hundreds of years. If there isn’t a promotion available at one company, I’ll move to one where there is one.”

  “Building a career is that important?”

  “Building a career that matters is that important. You wouldn’t understand,” she told him. “You’re already successful.”

  “I was under the impression success was a personal definition.”

  “Says the man whose role in the family legacy is already secure.” She slapped her drink on the table and stomped to the opposite window. The conversation left her irritated. Who was he to judge her plans?

  “I’m sorry,” he said from his side of the observation pod. “I didn’t mean to spoil the evening. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  No, he shouldn’t have. Why did he? “What does it matter to you what my life plans are, anyway?”

  There was silence, followed by the sound of footsteps. When he spoke, his voice was close to her shoulder. “Because you’re my friend,” he said, “and I’m concerned about you.”

  “Concerned?” Stella nearly laughed, except she could tell by the tone of his voice that he was serious. A fact confirmed by the look in his eyes when she turned around. “Why?”

  “You remind me of someone I used to know. Her name was Victoria. She also took things—life—very seriously. Too seriously, some might say.”

  “Let me guess, the two of you dated.”

  His expression grew somber. “We had a short relationship, yes.”

  “All right, I remind you of an ex-girlfriend.” One, if she were to guess from his expression, that didn’t leave him with fond memories. “I don’t understand why that has you concerned. We aren’t dating, so there’s not going to be any kind of messy breakup. If anything...”

  “She died.”

  Stella stopped talking. She hadn’t stopped to think the relationship might have ended tragically.

  “Apparently she had a prescription for sleeping pills.”

  Oh God. Stella felt sick to her stomach. She waited for Linus to say it was an accident, but there was no such reassurance. Her irritation disappeared, replaced by an ache over the regret in his voice. This was the reason for his “social sabbatical.” The reason he wasn’t dating.

  Instinct told her there was also more to the story. Setting aside, for the time being, what he was implying about her, Stella sat down at the table. “Tell me everything,” she said.

  Linus ignored her invitation to sit down. He hadn’t intended to talk about Victoria, hadn’t planned on mentioning her at all, but listening to Stella go on about needing to prove herself triggered something. She’d looked so happy talking about curating Agnes’s collection. Her face lit up. Unlike the desperation that simmered beneath the surface whenever she talked about New York. Suddenly, he’d needed to make her see the difference. Make her question if going back to New York would really make her happy.

  Instead, she was asking him to confess the depths of his insensitivity. How the tables did turn.

  Then again, he’d opened the door, hadn’t he? Spying his half-empty glass on the table, he grabbed it and headed to the window, standing with his back to Stella and the Lambeth landscape. “She was a graphic designer. Colliers hired her when we were redesigning our packaging. She was very, very good. Took her job very seriously.” Like she took everything. “The two of us hit it off.”

  “You had a workplace fling,” Stella supplied.

  “In a word? Yes. Generally I avoid them—having seen the mess my father made by marrying his secretary, I knew better. But I broke my rule with Victoria.”

  “She was special.”

  “She was a challenge.” He turned so Stella could see his face, not wanting her to mistake guilt for grief. “She was adamantly opposed to an affair, but eventually I wore her down. I can be quite persuasive when I want to be.”

  A smile teased the ends of her mouth. “So I’ve noticed,” she replied. “How long were you, um, together?”

  “A few months. Project ended and that was it. She took the news poorly. Like I said, she took things seriously, including our relationship.”

  A right awful scene it had been, too. “I knew she was tightly wound, but I should have realized there were deeper issues. If I’d paid better attention... If I were a better person...” But no. He’d behaved as he always did. “Instead, I saw she was getting ideas, and I ended things. Because I didn’t do serious. Two years later...”

  “Wait,” Stella interrupted. “Two years? You’re not blaming yourself, then, are you?”

  Linus sighed. She wasn’t thinking anything he hadn’t thought himself. Only someone with an ego the size of Europe would think a woman was so in love with him that she’d be mourning the breakup two years later.

  Thinking of the letter tucked in his nightstand drawer, he shook his head.

  “Only in the sense that I was a contributing factor—one of many contributing factors, I’m sure.” And it didn’t negate the fact that he had behaved poorly.

  “But you’re talking about two years. Anything could have happened in that time. You don’t know what was going on in her head.”

  “I got a letter.”

  Once again, he left Stella speechless. She sat still as a rock, with her eyes focused on her clasped hands. In a way, he was grateful she wasn’t looking at him. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see her expression. “I never told anyone, but it arrived the day after I heard the news. She apologized for not living up to my expectations. As if she was the problem, and not me. Victoria’s sister said she’d written dozens of those letters.”

  “Sounds like she had a lot of demons,” Stella said.

  “Making my behavior all the more deplorable.” Damn, but he wished people would stop letting him off the hook. “My entire life, I’ve been a playboy. Women were for pursuing, not for commitment. If I had taken time to see Victoria—to really see her—I would have realized she was more than tightly wound. Maybe I could have helped. Or at the very least left her alone.”

  After being trapped in his head for months, the words came out in a rush, eager to be free. When he finished, he felt his shoulders sag under their weight. “The whole situation made me realize I needed to rethink my behavior,” he said. “How I treat women.”

  “So you stopped dating.”

  He looked down at his glass. “Better I spend the time working on myself, right?”

  “Oh, Linus.”

  “Don’t,” he said. “I didn’t tell you to make you feel sorry for me. It was so you’d understand why I’m worried.”

  Stella didn’t respond. Chancing a look, Linus saw her staring at her hands, which were tightly clasped in front of her. “Do you really think me that unstable?” she asked finally.

  “No. I don’t think you’re unstable at all. But the way you take your position, that is, the way you’re so hard on yourself when you make mistakes. I don’t want someone I...” The explanation stuck in his throat, forcing him to cough. “I worry. Isn’t that what friends do?”

  Stella continued staring at her hands. The wheel was nearing the end of its rotation. He’d paid for a second trip, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Stella insisted on leaving.

  “I suppose they do. I’ve never really had a friend close enough to pay attention before. I was always too busy working or studying or whatever.”

  Proving his point, Linus wanted to say, but he didn’t. Instead, he gave a soft laugh. “Then it’s a first for both of us.”

  That earned him a look. “Are you trying to tell me
you don’t have friends?”

  “No, I’ve plenty. Just not women.” Sisters and sisters-in-law didn’t count.

  “Lucky me, then.”

  Their car reached the landing platform. Stella glanced at the doorway, then stood up. To his surprise, however, she walked away from the door, toward him, stopping inches away. Her eyes were dark and serious as she searched his face. “I’m not Victoria,” she said.

  “I know.” Despite their similarities, there was no confusing the two. Everything about Victoria had radiated delicacy and fragility, whereas Stella was strong and capable, more so than even she knew.

  “I was burned out that day in New York. Burned out and exhausted.” Reaching out to cradle his face, she forced his eyes to stay locked with hers. “And you’re not a bastard. At least not to me.”

  “Don’t get too confident. There’s still time.”

  She didn’t rise to the bait. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

  Suddenly, her arms were wrapping around his shoulders, throwing his entire body into alert. Muscles stiffening, he tried to back away. “Stella.”

  “Relax,” she replied. “It’s only a hug. Friends can hug one another, can’t they?” Without waiting for a response, she pressed herself closer, her chin coming to rest on his shoulder. “I’m honored to be your first,” she whispered.

  How did this happen, Linus wondered. How did his precautionary tale switch into his receiving comfort? As he slowly returned the embrace, Linus felt something shift in his chest. Something large and swooping, as though it was his insides and not the Ferris wheel resuming the ascent. It was a foreign, heady feeling that he wanted to hold on to and never let go.

  What was he going to do when things began to descend?

  CHAPTER SIX

  Autumn

  “WHAT ARE YOU doing this weekend?” Stella asked.

  “Same as last weekend,” Linus replied.