Page 47 of Mercy (The Sins Trilogy 3)
Chapter Seventeen
Ivy
After an hour of chatting, Yuna starts yawning. I take her to one of the guest bedrooms and lend her a nightshirt and some of my toiletries and creams. Her stuff is all currently en route to Seoul with Mr. Kim.
I should go to bed too, but I’m too wired. Rolling my shoulders, I go to the kitchen to get another glass of wine. Maybe it’ll help me fall asleep.
Tony’s checking something on his phone, but drops it on the counter and comes over. He digs his fingers into my shoulders and works on the knots. “You’re tense.”
I sigh. He has amazing hands, and I feel the tension draining slowly. “Thank you. It’s just been a long day.”
“I’m glad you made up with Yuna. I wouldn’t want you to lose a friend like her because of what I did.”
I pat his hand. “Me too. And thank you. I would’ve never thought to just buy a ticket to get through security. I’m surprised she decided to leave like that, though.”
“She’s probably not used to being shunned. Her father’s the head of a major chaebol, and people around her undoubtedly suck up. Hard to have a lot of real friends in her situation.”
“That’s sad.” I pour a glass of red. I have few friends because I don’t remember my past and I’ve been traveling a lot. But I never had to guard against people I met, wondering if they were financially motivated. “I think I’d hate it if I had to constantly second-guess people’s motives for wanting to be friendly with me.”
“That’s why you matter to her. There’s no cost-benefit calculation going on, and she knows it. You like her just because.”
I rest my elbow on the counter and prop my chin in my free hand. This conversation reminds me of what Margot told me earlier today about the vast difference in our wealth. “Do you ever wonder if I’m with you for your money?”
“Nope.”
“Really? Why not?”
“You were with me all those years ago when I had nothing.”
“But weren’t you still—” I bite back the rest of the question.
“I wasn’t technically disowned back then,” he says. “But my parents wouldn’t have given me a penny, especially if you and I planned to be together.”
How odd, then, for Margot to offer to pay for the wedding. She has to know it won’t be cheap. Is it like a down payment for more—a clumsy attempt at reconciliation because she needs Tony to pay for something bigger for her? “But don’t you worry now? I mean, I don’t remember everything, and…” I frown as Margot’s suggestion pops into my head. “Should we do a prenup?”
Tony’s eyes go dark. And harder than granite. “What would that do? Give you a clean exit?”
Shock numbs my throat for a moment, and the wine gets caught, nearly choking me. How does he think a prenup would give me a clean exit? Doesn’t it protect the party with most to lose? “No. Peace of mind that if anything happens, I won’t be taking advantage of you.”
“I’m going to be a model husband, so you’ll never want to leave me.” His tone makes it a grim vow.
I straighten, surprised and unhappy he’s taking my question that way. “I didn’t mean that I’m going to want to leave you. I know you’re going to be an amazing husband because you’re going to try your best. I just…don’t want it to look like you’re marrying a gold digger.”
He stares me for a moment, then takes my hand.
“Come with me.”
He leads me out to the garage and into the Cullinan. For once, TJ isn’t in it. Tony drives us out along the 60 and then up the 57, past Pomona and into the desert. The inside of the car is quiet, with nothing but the sound of the purring engine and the road. But the silence is sweet and light without any heavy demand to fill it.
A little over an hour later, he pulls over to the side of the road and stops. We gets out, and he takes my hand in his. Aside from the passing traffic, there isn’t much around. I glance up at him, wondering what we’re doing here.
“Look at the sky,” he says.
It’s exceptionally clear above us. A huge, round moon sits high in the black canvas. Stars sparkle like tiny gemstones.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper. I can’t think of a time I just stood and appreciated the sky like this.
He puts an arm around my waist, and I do the same. I like the warm solidity of his strong body. It doesn’t just inspire lust, but deep love. It’s too bad I’m not better with words, so I could tell him. The only thing I can do is play something soulful and romantic on the Steinway.
