The Roman's Woman (A Singular Obsession Book 4) by Lucy Leroux Page B

can’t deal with your issues, then talk to my father’s lawyer. It’s his house you’re buying. I never even lived there. Dad’s attorney will be more familiar with his estate. And there’s no reason you couldn’t text me about this instead of always insisting on calling.”
    Richard grunted. His cultured British accent took on a nasal, and annoyingly superior, tone. “Texting is for teenagers. And you still need to approve sale of the Chevette.”
    What ? “You want to buy that too? Since when?”
    Her father’s vintage 1970 Chevrolet Chevette had been his pride and joy. He had restored the car himself, spending most Sunday afternoons tinkering with it in the garage, regardless of whether or not she was visiting. It still needed a little work, but would be worth a fair amount to the right buyer.
    Why Richard, with his aristocratic tastes, wanted it on top of everything else was a mystery. He already had a car—a Bentley.
    “Jorge meant a lot to me,” he said. “I’m already going to be filling his shoes as head of the Sociology department. It seems right that I be the one to buy his house and the car he loved. It’s not like you want them.”
    That last detail was true. Not being close to her father, she had no real desire to keep his things. Richard’s attachment to them, however, was a little creepy. Selling everything to him had seemed like a good idea at the time, but it was turning into a huge hassle.
    “I’ll think about the car,” she said, trying to keep her tone even. “But I’ll let you know when I return home. I won’t be picking this phone up again until I’m back on English soil. And start texting. You’re not a thousand years old. Join the twenty-first century.”
    She hung up, cutting off whatever else he was going to say next. The phone started ringing again immediately. Resolutely turning it to airplane mode, she threw it back into her purse. Across the way, Gio cocked his head at her before coming back to sit down.
    “Everything okay?” he asked.
    Collapsing into the armchair, she wagged her finger at him. “Gio, take my advice. Never date a rich guy. Or rich girls, in your case.”
    He hesitated and frowned. “What do you mean?”
    Emotionally drained, she waved her languid hand from her near prone-position on the armchair. “I mean, don’t get involved with anyone with money—especially old money. They’re too damn entitled and think everything they say is right and everything you do is wrong. Noblesse oblige has become noblesse I’m better than you so why bother having an opinion of your own .”
    For a minute, he stared at her open-mouthed before he recovered. “So that was your ex?”
    Nodding perfunctorily, she peeked up at him through her thick lashes.
    “And he’s from a monied background? Aristocratic?”
    Monied . What a weird way to phrase it. “Yes,” she sighed. “He’s a first cousin to an English lord or something. As blue-blooded as it gets, with a matching blue stick up his butt.”
    Slumping further into the armchair—and she was nearly lying horizontal across it at this point—she put a hand over her eyes. She couldn’t believe how much had changed between her and Richard. When they first met, the sun and moon rose and set with him. His good opinion had been everything to her.
    Richard’s sophistication had been impressive, and as an added bonus, her father loved him. Being with him had seemed like a good way to build a bridge between her and her obtuse parent. But now Richard’s condescension rankled. Even his posh British accent, which she had loved, set her teeth on edge.
    “Well, it sounds like you’re well rid of him.” The words came slowly, his voice distant.
    Peeking at Gio from behind her fingers, she noticed how pale he looked. Almost sick. Did hearing about her ex bother him? Must be. Some men loathed knowing any details about a woman’s past relationships. Maybe Gio was one of those.
    “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be talking