Liar Liar

‘Were you one of those international playboys? Yachts and Cristal, girls in bikinis and partying like you were Jay-Z?’ she’d teased.

Little did she know that’s exactly how I spent my years post university. My father supplied the money, and I just lived for ruin.

‘For a little while,’ I’d answered eventually. ‘Well, for long enough to make myself sick. Bored with my own company. I sold the yacht for something a little less ostentatious, then navigated my way to Indonesia where I bought a little bit of paradise.’

Her hand paused in stroking my chest as her head lifted. ‘So they’re sailor’s hands, not carpenter’s.’

‘They’re hands that have seen a little bit of everything.’ Hands that find a little heaven in you. ‘I designed a house and set to work building it.’

‘By yourself?’

‘No.’ I’d laughed. ‘I was a spoiled rich kid with no skills. But I learned on the job, so to speak. And yes, I developed a taste for carpentry. You might say I’m good with wood.’

‘Tell me something I don’t know.’ Her smile was reluctant.

I’m losing my mind over you, I almost replied.

‘All that stopped when Emile died suddenly two years ago.’ I was devastated, though not about my father.

‘If you didn’t want the business, why come back? Why put yourself through it at all?’

‘Sometimes, I ask myself the same question.’

‘Do you ever find the answer?’

‘He said I’d never amount to much. He was a self-made man, and never shied away from proclaiming it. He came from nothing and pointed out often that I had everything—everything given to me on a silver platter, yet I’d never be the man he was.’

‘He sounds like he was an unhappy man. Jealous, even.’

‘He loved Monaco, yet it has never felt like home to me.’

‘Really?’ She pushed up on her elbow and stared down at me. ‘Because, to me, you look like you own it.’

‘I was bundled off to boarding school at the first opportunity and was never in any hurry to come back.’ I’d sighed and dragged my hand down my face, almost as though cleansing myself of the memories. ‘Listen to the poor little rich boy complain.’

‘No, don’t do that. Don’t depreciate your experiences. You can be rich in the pocket and poor in other ways.’

‘What about you, Rose? What were you poor in?’

‘Cash,’ she replied with an unhappy laugh. ‘Permanency.’ My conscience tugged at me. Not because my existence was more than hers but because of all I’ve hidden from her. Here she lies in my bed, counting her blessing of a job and stability when what’s due to her is so much more. ‘But my house, my home, in whichever apartment, town, or county we were living in at the time, well, it was always rich in love. More so when there was just the two of us together. When she wasn’t dating, I mean.’

‘And your father?’

‘He died before I was born. It was a whirlwind romance followed by a pregnancy and a hasty court-house wedding. It probably never would’ve lasted, but Mom’s Irish bad boy was killed in a car accident before they had a chance to find out.’

‘I’m sorry.

‘Thank you.’ She sighed deeply, her chest expanding against mine. ‘You never miss what you never had. But being a single parent couldn’t have been easy on her. She always seemed to be looking for a man to give her stability.’ Her attention turned inward before she seemed to rouse herself. You know what my home was rich in?’ she’d added, angling her head. ‘Ass whoopings.’

‘We’re you a naughty girl?’

‘Ha! You wish. But we were talking about you and your workman’s hands.’ She’d reached for me then, intertwining our fingers once more. ‘And how you were going to prove your father wrong.’

‘He’s dead. He doesn’t get to see what I’ve become.’ My words were intentionally dismissive, but dismissive was better than betraying my annoyance.

‘Maybe. Maybe not. But the world does. They say Wolf Industries has almost doubled in size in the past two years. Since you’ve been in charge, right?’

‘I do what needs to be done,’ I responded, silently adding my intention to discover exactly who the woman was in my arms. The woman I’d become so dependent on, the woman with no idea of the depths of my need. My need for her. My need to know where she’s come from. I’d started on a path there was no return from.

‘I’m sure your father would be proud. I mean, I haven’t been here long, but it looks like you own kind of a lot of Monaco.’

‘We do have a number of projects,’ I’d replied.

‘I heard they crowned you the king of the South of France.’

‘It sounds like someone is trying to get me sent to Prince Albert’s dungeon.’

‘You know there’s a t on the end of that guy’s name.’

‘Not in France, there isn’t.’