20. Mary
Chapter 20
Mar y
I observe Connor’s face, searching for any hint of emotion as he stares blankly at his glass of wine.
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” I reach across the table, laying my hand over his free one.
Connor’s fingers twitch beneath mine. “It’s fine.” He takes a sip of wine and then meets my gaze evenly. “She left when I was young. Haven’t seen her since.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” No child deserves to be abandoned by their mother.
“Don’t be.” His tone is clipped, final. “Ancient history.”
“What’s your father like?”
“My father is the best. Hardworking. Loyal. He loves me and my brother more than anything.” He exhales heavily. “We didn’t have much, but he made sure we never went without. Put in long hours at the factory to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table.” Connor’s thumb strokes idly over my knuckles. “ I think that’s where I get my work ethic from. Seeing how hard he busted his ass for us.”
“He sounds admirable.”
“Always doing the right thing, no matter how tough it got.” His lips quirk in a rueful half-smile. “Could have used some of those values myself over the years.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
He just shakes his head. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”
The abrupt shift in his demeanor leaves me reeling. One moment, he’s open and candid, and the next, he’s closed off. Typical Connor.
I open my mouth to press further, but his eyes flick to mine, and the words die on my tongue. His stare reveals nothing of the thoughts churning behind that brilliant mind of his.
The arrival of our next course provides a welcome distraction as the waiter sets down plates of pan-seared duck breast drizzled with a rich cherry gastrique. Steam wafts up from the food, carrying the enticing scent of herbs and fruit.
“This looks amazing.” I dig in.
Connor simply nods, his gaze lingering on me before turning his attention to his plate. “He will love you.”
“Huh?”
“My dad. He will love you.”
“Can’t wait to meet him. He sounds amazing.”
What did I just say ?
I raise my head. His smile hits me out of nowhere. I think I’ve never seen him smile like that.
“Careful, Blue. Say things like this, and I’m liable to get ideas.”
Would it be a bad idea? Would me meeting his father mean we’re together? Boyfriend-girlfriend-together?
I clear my throat and reach for my wine glass. “So, um… how did you get into hacking?”
He lets out a soft laugh, leaning back in his chair. “Subtle subject change.”
“Only curious.”
“Back then, I stumbled onto some hacker forums. There was no going back. I was drawn to the challenge, the puzzle, and the thrill if I’m being honest.”
“The thrill?” I raise a brow.
“Some people get their adrenaline rush from extreme sports or fast cars.” Connor gives me a crooked smile. “I get mine from outmaneuvering security systems and gaining access to places I shouldn’t.”
“Just like that, you decided to become a criminal?”
“Never said I was a good boy.” He leans forward again, resting his elbows on the table. “Admit it, you like me this way.”
I peer down at my nails. I do. I… do.
“The money was good. At first, anyway,” he says.
“Until you grew a conscience? ”
“Something like that. I kept running into jobs that seemed off. Found out I was enabling some shady characters. Decided it was time to pick a side, so I became a white hat.”
“White hat?”
“I realized that using my skills solely for personal gain felt empty somehow. There had to be more to life than constantly peering over my shoulder. A white hat is identifying weaknesses more than using them for his own good.”
“So now you hunt the kind of hackers you used to be.”
“In a manner of speaking. It’s more… a preventing them in the first place.” Connor smiles wryly. “But enough about my misspent youth. What about you, Blue? Any torrid tales of rebellion I should know about?”
I snort. “Not even close. My life has been painfully normal compared to yours.”
“Somehow, I doubt that. In fact, I’d wager there are all sorts of interesting layers to Mary Wempton.”
“You’d lose that bet.” I’m boring. Just as boring as the people I had dates with.
“Would I?”
I poke at my duck. “My life is pretty straightforward compared to yours. Maybe you see more than what’s there.”
“Or maybe you don’t see yourself clearly at all.”
I frown, thrown by his words. Me, Mary Wempton, daughter of Richard and Victoria Wempton, see myself clearly? I’ve spent my whole life being molded and critiqued into the perfect socialite businesswoman my parents expect me to be. The perfect wife for an acceptable husband. Every choice measured against their lofty standards, never my own.
No, I know exactly who I am. Who they need me to be.
“Believe me, I do.” I stab a piece of duck with my fork. “I am just working, adhering to family obligations, and failed blind dates, and when I marry… I’m going to be the perfect wifey attending Saturday brunches, hosting Sunday dinners, and pretending I don’t hate all those fake, judgmental—”
“Easy there, killer.” Connor’s eyes gleam with amusement across the table. “The duck is already dead.”
“Don’t tempt me.” I take a big bite. The tannins cling to my tongue, complementing the lingering flavors of cherry and thyme.
Connor’s gaze follows the movement of my throat as I swallow. When I set my glass back down, he leans forward, voice low. “Tell me, then. If you could live any kind of life you wanted. What would it be like?”
I pause, fork hovering halfway to my mouth. It’s not a question I’ve ever really considered before. My life has always been decided for me—what to study, where to work, who to date. Even my hobbies and interests were tailored to match what a proper Wempton woman should enjoy. Dreams of my own never factored into the equation.
“I don’t know,” I finally admit. “No one’s ever asked me that before.”
His eyes widen fractionally. “You’ve never imagined a different life for yourself? ”
The duck seems far less appetizing now.
“Never pictured traveling the world? Starting your own business? Falling in love, living on a vineyard in Tuscany?” He ticks each option off on his fingers.
“You have quite the imagination.” I force a small laugh, still avoiding his intent stare.
“And you have quite the lack of one, it seems.”
I bristle at his words. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Only that it’s a shame, someone like you sleepwalking through life without dreams of your own.” His eyes soften. “You deserve so much more than that.”
My throat tightens, a lump forming. I reach for my wine with a shaky hand, gulping greedily.
“It’s not that simple,” I finally rasp out. “Duty to family comes first. I can’t just walk away from that.”
He is silent for a long moment. Long enough that I risk a glance upward.
“No. I suppose you can’t.” He lifts his glass, appraising me over the rim as he takes a slow sip. “But that doesn’t mean you have to close yourself off to other possibilities.”
My lips part, but no words come. I can only stare at him mutely, pulse skittering.
Before I can gather my scattered thoughts, the waiter appears to clear our plates.
“Can I interest you in dessert this evening?”
Connor’s eyes latch onto mine, burning with that familiar intensity. “The Tiramisu, please. ”
A few minutes later, the waiter arrives, bearing a beautifully crafted tiramisu and placing it between us. Its creamy layers are perfectly formed and garnished with fresh raspberries. This is my absolute favorite dessert.
But… there’s only one portion, not two.
I glance across at Connor, eyebrows raised in question.
“One is enough for two, don’t you think?” He scoots his chair closer to mine.
“What are you doing?” I blink at him.
“Just play along.” He lifts his spoon, scooping up a bite of tiramisu. “Now, open up.”
“I’m not a child, Connor.”
His voice drops to a husky murmur as he moves the spoon closer to my lips. “Indulge me.”
I hesitate for a moment, my pulse racing, then part my lips. Connor places the spoon into my mouth, and I close my eyes as the rich sweetness of coffee and chocolate floods my senses.
When I open them again, he watches me with dark, hungry eyes. The spoon leaves my mouth with a soft plop, and I savor the rich, creamy sweetness.
But instead of scooping another bite, Connor gives me a sudden kiss. His tongue pushes past my lips, exploring my mouth, tasting the remnants of the tiramisu. At first, I’m taken aback, but soon, I melt into the kiss, my body responding instinctively to his touch, his boldness, and my own eagerness .
Receding only marginally, he breaks the kiss, licking his lips as he rests his forehead against mine. “I knew it would taste better like this.”
“You can’t just do that here.”
“Do what?” He arches a brow, feigning innocence.
“Kiss me like that.” I glance around the restaurant. No one seems to have noticed our impromptu make-out session, but my nerves are still frayed.
“My apologies.” His tone is light, teasing. “I couldn’t resist.”
“Well, resist. Or at least wait until we’re alone.”
“Alone? I like the sound of that.”
My cheeks burn as I struggle to form a coherent response. Finally, I manage a shaky, “Do you want to come over after?”
Connor’s smirk softens into a smile, one that makes my chest ache with tenderness.
“Yes, but first. We finish this.” He scoops another bite and lifts the spoon to his own mouth this time.
I’m in so much trouble.