The Billionaire Gets His Way(34)
Author: Elizabeth Bevarly

Vaguely, Violet was going to guess it was worth about eighty billion dollars.

“Thank you, Miranda,” Gavin said. “We’ll take it from here.”

Oh, we will? Violet wanted to ask. Like she had any idea what she was doing here.

His word was evidently good enough for the housekeeper, because, with another one of her no-emotion smiles, she told Gavin to call her if he had any questions or needed any assistance. Then she was gone, leaving Violet alone with Gavin. With Gavin and eighty billion dollars’ worth of art that didn’t belong to either of them.

Suddenly, she was too terrified to move. What if she accidentally knocked something over? Or what if one of her buttons got caught on something? Not only would she lose her hundred-dollar damage deposit at Talk of the Town, but she’d be out eighty billion dollars more for Chatsworth’s art collection.

“You don’t have to be frightened, Violet,” Gavin said, this time reading her reaction exactly. “Everything is insured.”

Of course it was. And the deductible was probably only eighty billion dollars, so that would save her a bundle.

“I’m just going to go sit over there,” she said, pointing toward what looked like a simple, if very ornate, dining room chair. “It doesn’t look that expensive.”

“That chair dates back to the court of Louis the Sixteenth,” Gavin told her. “It’s worth more than you can imagine.”

Wow. And she was someone who could imagine eighty billion dollars.

“Then I’ll just stand by the door. Or maybe I should go out to the car,” she further suggested.

He grinned at that. “Stick close to me. You’ll be fine.”

Oh, right. That was the most dangerous place of all for her to be.

In spite of that, she—very carefully—made her way to his side and stuck there like glue. In fact, to make sure she didn’t accidentally bump into anything, she looped her arm through his and leaned into him. He went rigid at her action, but when she looked up at his face, his expression was anything but. He started to say something, then evidently thought better of it. Instead, with his free hand, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and began taking photos of the pieces closest to them.

That task completed, he began to take a step toward another grouping. But he didn’t get far, because Violet had planted her feet too firmly in place, and he ricocheted back toward her. Instead of recoiling from him this time, however, Violet found comfort in his nearness. This place really was a little overwhelming. But somehow, for some reason, Gavin wasn’t.

“It’s just a house, Violet,” he said quietly, again reading her correctly. “Just a house and some furniture and some things to make a place nicer, just like anyone else’s.”

“Oh, please,” she said. “You know better than anyone that that isn’t true. This house isn’t like anyone else’s and neither are the things in it. This is the kind of house, the kind of furniture, the kind of world you’ve always wanted desperately to be a part of and will do anything to keep living in. The one you want to preserve above all else. If this house were in my neighborhood and filled with the kind of furniture in my apartment, you wouldn’t have anything to do with it.”

He looked as if he were going to deny it, then must have realized she would know he was lying. “You’re right,” he agreed, surprising her. “But look at it, Violet.” He spread his arms wide to encompass the entire room. “Look at this place. Look at these incredible things. Wouldn’t you rather live someplace like this than where you’re living now?”

Involuntarily—or maybe it wasn’t so involuntary—she lifted her chin in defense. “I like where I’m living just fine.”

“But wouldn’t you rather live here?”

She surveyed her outrageously luxurious, outrageously expensive, surroundings before replying, to make sure she replied honestly. The place was gorgeous, no question. And being surrounded by such beauty and extravagance was indeed a privilege. To be here every day, knowing it all belonged to her?

She shook her head. “I don’t know, Gavin. As beautiful as it all is, this is an awful lot to be responsible for. The more you have, the more you risk losing, you know?”

Instead of taking a moment to consider what she had meant to be a ponderous question, he immediately beamed at her. “Exactly. That’s exactly my point.”

“What is?”

“That this is so much—too much—to give up. That’s why I want to protect my lifestyle. Because no one in their right mind would want to live any other way.”

“No, that wasn’t what I—” Then the rest of what he’d said began to sink in. “So then, I’m not in my right mind if I prefer to live more modestly? Is that what you’re saying?”

His smile fell. “No, that wasn’t what I meant.”

“It’s what you said.”

“But it’s not what I meant. Violet, I’ve worked so hard to win cachet into society like this. It’s been my dream since I was a kid. Do you know what it’s like to have a dream that long? Do you know what it’s like to have it come true?”

She remembered her cozy little cottage in the suburbs, with its roses and wisteria and porch swing. “I know exactly what it’s like to have a dream like that,” she said. She couldn’t answer the second question, however. She still hadn’t realized her dream. But she figured it probably felt pretty amazing to make a dream a reality. Someday, she hoped she would know for sure.

Her opinion of Gavin shifted a little with that. Maybe they weren’t so different from each other at their core. They’d both come from meager beginnings and struggled for something better. Yes, his idea of something better was way beyond her own, but they’d still both been striving to make a dream a reality. How would Violet feel if she’d been living her ideal life in her ideal cottage, then someone came along who threatened to jeopardize it? She’d do whatever she had to protect it, the same way Gavin would.

The difference, however, was that she wouldn’t walk over people to do it. She wouldn’t insult them. She wouldn’t tell them they didn’t count. But then, that was the way it was, wasn’t it? The more you had, the more you risked losing it. And the greater the risk, the greater the fight. And the greater the fight, the more ruthless the fighter.

She was glad she would never have to fight as much or as hard as he did. She was glad she would never have to pick and choose her loved ones—her friends, she hastily corrected herself—based on how much they were worth or what their origins were. She was glad she wasn’t ashamed of where she came from or who she was at her core. Who she would always be, no matter what path she followed in life.