CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
After stopping on the side of the road, Ricki grabbed out of his trunk some of the clothes she had purchased from Walmart and put them on over her pjs. When she got back into the Bentley, Vince took off. And they left Milton altogether.
He could feel that a burden had been lifted from Ricki as soon as he drove them out of those city limits, but he knew she was going to still bear the scars. He drove fast. He wanted as much real estate between them and that town as he could manage.
It was nearly two a.m. when they arrived at Vince’s Connecticut estate on the outer edges of New Haven’s city limits.
As the tall electronic gate parted, Ricki didn’t know why she expected to find a mansion to end all mansions behind that fence.
She’d never been to a millionaire’s house before.
A billionaire’s house either, but that went without saying.
Although it was a white, two-story colonial with smaller houses peppered throughout the property as they drove up the long, winding driveway, it wasn’t exactly breathtaking the way she would have thought a billionaire would have lived.
She was expecting a palace. She got a house instead.
She wasn’t even sure if it could be classified as a mansion.
She looked at Vince as he drove toward the main house.
What manner of man did she have on her hands, she asked herself again.
He was so down to earth. Even his house, though grand, was down to earth.
That was why she was so shocked when her father said he wasn’t just rich, but was a billionaire. And Google confirmed it.
But her TV knowledge of that class of people made her believe that billionaires drove around in chauffeured limousines all the time and spent most of their day at their country club, or at a charity function, or at a shooting party at the ranch in Montana, or in the service of some other arcane, strictly-for-the-super-rich activity.
But Vince was a lobbyist, and his company, Fontaine-Bachman, was in public relations.
She viewed that as a regular profession.
But according to Google, it was regular if she thought Warren Buffett’s Berkshire Hathaway was regular.
It was not. Vince’s company was a multinational, multibillion dollar firm. It wasn’t regular either.
But Vince was.
Or was he?
This was her first taste of his lifestyle, and she still was wondering how in the world could a beautician from Brooklyn, and a struggling one at that, fit into a world like his.
Then she caught herself. Who said she had to fit in?
That man never asked her any such thing, where did all of this fitting in suddenly come from?
Even when her father asked Vince what their relationship truly was, he had no real answer for it.
Was it even a relationship at all? Or was he just a nice, older man helping out a younger woman?
She couldn’t tell what it was by Vince’s behavior, and she didn’t want to confuse his kindness for love or affection or any of that stuff.
He might just be a nice guy who wanted nothing more to do with her than what he was doing: Helping a fellow human being out of a jam.
She had to protect her heart from the very real possibility that this was nothing more than that to Vince.
But the fact that he didn’t leave town after he left her parents’ home, as if he wanted to stick around to make sure she was still okay, only aided in her confusion.
Was he that nice? He didn’t come across as that nice to her, not with his domineering ways.
She’d never met a man so hard on her like he was on her before.
And that included all of her useless boyfriends!
They at least pretended to treat her as their equal.
Not so with Vince. He was in charge. There was no such thing as a fifty/fifty relationship whenever she was around him.
Which was a big red flag for Ricki.
Her temperament would not allow a man to dominate her.
But then why, she wondered, had she let him dominate her during the entire time they’d been together?
Was it because of the trauma of her sister’s arrest and the need to just get there to see her?
Was it the super-trauma of her sister’s sudden death and that feeling of fear it invoked in her?
It was as if she was taking her cues from Vince, rather than from her own instincts.
Not that she didn’t fight back. They clashed often because she fought back.
But it was still so not like her to let any man tell her what to do that it was strange to her.
But it was also true that Vince was so not like any man she’d ever known before, and for some reason, despite the fact that she really didn’t know him like that, she absolutely trusted him. Absolutely.
She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t realize he had stopped his Bentley, gotten out, and was opening the passenger side car door for her.
Which she was still getting used to as well.
She never allowed men to open her car door, even though a few had tried.
But she’d get out before they could. It was a pride thing for her.
She didn’t want any man to claim to have anything they could use later to get over on her.
Not even his good manners: “I even opened your car door for you,” he could proclaim.
“But just because I messed up with one other woman that makes me a bad man?” Ricki wasn’t giving them not even that excuse to declare their no-account, cheating asses chivalrous.
But she was giving Vince many excuses should their acquaintance-friendship-budding romance, or whatever it could be called, turned sour the way they all ended up turning whenever she her heart got involved.
Mainly because Vince earned those excuses.
He not only could use the opening her door in defense of his goodness, but the fact that he drove her all the way to Milton, stayed to be with her during her sister’s court proceeding, had her car towed to the dealership in Milton, gave her money and a hotel room to use until she didn’t need it anymore, and on and on and on.
He had a lot over her head. More than any human being had ever had over her.
It kind of delighted her. She was glad it was Vince with that power over her. But it kind of scared her too.
He even reached in, unbuckled her seatbelt before she could, and reached out his hand to help her out of his car. She was getting so accustomed to this gentlemanly treatment already that if he left her and she never saw him again, it was going to hurt.
As they walked across the driveway amidst the beautiful gardens that darted their path, she was surprised that this wasn’t his main home. From what she could gage, he spent far more time in Washington, DC than he ever did in Connecticut. But the whole place appeared so well-maintained.
But just as they began walking up the steps that led to the wraparound front porch, and a man opened the front double doors in what appeared to be a butler’s uniform, she realized why that house and grounds were so well kept together.
Vince undoubtedly had staff there year-round, whether he was there or not.
Which had to cost a pretty penny. Which reminded her that, despite his down-to-earthness, he was still among the super-rich and lived that lifestyle.
As soon as they began walking across that huge front porch, Ricki could see that butler’s eyes move from his boss over to her immediately, as if he didn’t expect the boss to arrive with a woman.
And especially not her kind of woman. “Welcome home, sir,” he said to Vince even as he was still looking at Ricki.
“Thank you, Baines. This is Miss Richardson,” Vince said by way of introduction. “Rasheda, this is my butler.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Baines,” Ricki said. The man looked old enough to be her grandfather. There was no way she was greeting him without putting respect in front of his name.
They walked into the home. But as Baines closed the door, Vince could tell something was wrong.
“Everything okay?” he asked him.
“Um, yes sir. But may I speak with you privately, sir?”
Vince frowned. “Privately? Why? You can speak with me right here.”
Ricki thought Vince sounded a bit harsh, considering how the butler was probably trying to protect his privacy against a woman he’d never seen before, but that was how Vince spoke to her sometimes too. It was just him being him, she guessed.
Although she could tell the butler was reluctant to go there with her sticking her nose in it, he said what he needed to say. “Miss Lang is here, sir.”
Ricki’s heart dropped. Vince frowned again. “Cecily’s here?”
“Yes sir.”
“What on earth is she doing here?”
“She said she came to see you, sir. I assumed it was okay.”
“Where is she?”
“Upstairs. In the bedroom.”
Ricki was disheartened when the butler made that statement, and especially the way he made it sound as if this woman upstairs in Vince’s bed wasn’t out of the ordinary at all.
She knew he was divorced three times, and the third one as recently as three months ago, which was shocking enough.
But she never even thought to ask if he currently had a girlfriend!
She didn’t think they’d known each other long enough to get that personal with him.
Which was crazy since they’d gotten more than personal with each other with their bodies already.
But she just felt they needed more time.
Now she was right smack in the middle of it?
And what made it worse was that Vince didn’t even look her way when that butler said where that woman could be found.
He began hurrying up the stairs, taking them two at a time, as if he was angrier about the fact that his girlfriend had come to his home apparently uninvited, rather than the fact that he had a girlfriend at all!
What in the from bad to worse night had she gotten herself into?
But when Vince began running up those stairs, she didn’t stand there like some scared side piece the way that butler seemed to think she was.
She hurried behind Vince. She wasn’t able to take those stairs two at a time - her legs weren’t long enough - but she was able to move just as fast. She wanted to hear what was going on straight from the horse’s mouth, rather than what Vince chose to tell her after the fact.
She had to see this chick, and hear her explanation, for herself.