Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 162003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 810(@200wpm)___ 648(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 810(@200wpm)___ 648(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
As though he could sense my mind wandering into dangerous territory, Ryland distracted me by dragging his fingertips up my spine.
“This is my favorite part,” he confessed.
“It’s a beautiful dress,” I admitted. “I can only imagine how much trouble you went through to get it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I may be from a lower class,” I quipped. “But even I know this is one of the best designers in Spain.”
He arched an eyebrow at me, and I smiled at the surprise that lay beneath the surface of those blue depths.
“I guess you don’t know everything about me after all, Ryland Bennett. Like my weakness for fashion.”
“You’re right,” he admitted. “I didn’t know that before. But now that I do, I’ll be certain to put it to good use.”
“You can’t,” I let the words fall from my mouth in a moment of rare honesty.
“Brighton…” His voice held a hint of warning, and I smiled at him. He thought I was being modest, but he had no idea.
“I do like fashion,” I explained. “But not because I want to own nice pieces, even though they are lovely…”
My words trailed off as I tried to find the courage to finish. Revealing such a childish dream to someone as successful as Ryland was ridiculous now that I thought about it. I wished I’d never said anything at all.
“Tell me,” he breathed against my throat.
I closed my eyes and relaxed into his warmth, allowing the words to spill free.
“I like to sew them,” I explained. “Unique pieces, I mean.”
“You know how to sew?” he sounded genuinely perplexed as he spun me around and studied my face.
“Well, I didn’t for a long time,” I admitted. “But one of our neighbors did. Mrs. Wilson. She was a cranky old lady that I convinced to teach me.”
“And how did you do that?” Ryland asked.
“She agreed to let me cook her meals twice a week in exchange for some sewing lessons,” I explained. “It wasn’t a great offer since I wasn’t a very a good cook. But she still taught me anyway, and I got pretty good at it.”
Ryland let out a hearty laugh that shocked me, and pretty soon I was laughing too.
“You surprise me sometimes,” he said. “A lot actually.”
I smiled, but his rare moment of honesty was dimmed by the darkness taking over his features again.
“So what happened with the sewing?” he asked. “Do you still do it?”
I shrugged and cast my eyes to the floor. “I sewed a few prom dresses every year for some of the locals, until Brayden’s… well, until, you know. Naively I thought it was something I could really do. It was how I stayed sane I guess, dreaming of creating my own designs and doing what I loved.”
“You still could,” Ryland said softly. “You’re only twenty-one, Brighton. You still have your whole life ahead of you.”
I shook my head and gave him a weak smile. “Those kinds of dreams are for people who don’t have to face reality,” I replied.
For the first time since I’d known him, Ryland actually looked guilty. Was it because he thought he was helping to destroy my dreams? If that was the case, it couldn’t be farther from the truth. The truth was I was too much of a coward to go after a dream that big. Every time I’d even considered it, I would hear Norma-Jean’s voice inside of my head. She’d tell me that kind of stuff was for rich kids who didn’t have to work. And though I never liked to give her credit, I knew she was right.
“Here.”
Ryland walked around in front of me and handed me another one of his signature red flowers. I twirled the stem in my fingers and brought it to my nose, inhaling the subtle fragrance.
“Why always these flowers?” I asked.
He smiled as though he’d been expecting this question and trailed his fingertips over the delicate petals.
“Do you know what the lotus symbolizes?”
“Not really,” I answered. “But I know they grow in mud, right?”
“Yes.” He moved his fingertips to my face, his eyes lingering on mine while he explained. “They grow from the most unexpected of places, and for that reason, many cultures regard them as a symbol of purity and beauty. It was the same thing I thought the first time I saw you.”
“You did?” I blinked in surprise.
“It was unexpected,” he admitted. “To see a girl like you in that place. From that family. So pure and kind and innocent. I didn’t think it could be real, but you’ve proven me wrong, Brighton. You prove me wrong every day.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ryland took me to a private club that was all the rage in the financial district. The entire place was decked out in rich black leather and deep shades of crimson. It screamed of exclusivity. One foot in the door and I could practically smell the money rolling off of these suits.