Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
This could never work.
I sucked in a breath, loathing myself for breaking my promise to Dad, yet again.
Just as I’d started to send her on her way, Eileen surprised me by blurting out, “I brought mooncakes.”
I crossed my arms. “What?”
Not only was this not the time for them, it was literally not the time for them according to the calendar.
A small smile tipped up her lips. The first human thing she’d done since stepping into my domain.
Rich, coming from me—I know.
She rested a hand on the island, surveying the closet, as though the idea of getting caught sharing the space with me was as disagreeable to her as it was to me.
“Mooncakes. From Chinatown. The real deal. Made by this ancient lady, who felt bad for running out of them last Moon Festival and cooked up a special batch for me. They’re triple yolked.”
Sounds like a recipe for clogged arteries.
It occurred to me that she’d abandoned the stilted formal speech, though I didn’t have a clue as to why.
“Grandma sent me all the way to this third-floor apartment in the middle of the night to pick them up.” When she noticed she’d left a fingerprint on the glass counter, she wiped it with the Hermès scarf swaddled around her wrist. “She said they’d win you over. I… I’m not even sure I want to do that.” Her lower lip twitched as if she’d suppressed a wince. “Win you over, I mean. This has nothing to do with you. You’re overqualified, like I knew you would be. But I don’t like…” She paused.
“You don’t like what?”
Mingling? Being set up by your family? Humans?
“Men,” she finished in a whisper, peering down at her toes.
This explained a lot about her single status.
And, to be frank, her lack of interest in my dick.
A knot in my shoulder began to loosen. “You’re gay?”
I could work with this.
A marriage on paper.
No expectations of emotions, interaction, sex.
“No.” She tucked her lip into her mouth, deliberating her next words. “I don’t like women, either. I don’t feel any desire toward anyone.”
Oh.
Mom truly had found the female version of me.
Well, up until Farrow Ballantine barreled into my life. Now, I one hundred percent did want to touch someone.
In fact, I wanted to do a hell of a lot more than that.
Eileen’s gaze traveled up to my ceiling. Tears rimmed the lower ledge of her eyes. She blew out a raspberry, the sound almost jarring coming from her.
I blinked. “You don’t want to fuck me?”
“I wouldn’t even want to hug you if we ever got married. Which, by the way, I’ve only contemplated because I really don’t want to die alone. I want children. I want a family. I want to experience what other people enjoy.”
I stroked my chin.
This could work.
Eileen Yang wasn’t likeable, but she wasn’t horrible, either. Sufficiently quiet. Sufficiently independent.
And we both appeared to share the same problem.
“This is dreadful.” She shook her head. “I’m so sorry I came here. I knew the necklace was just an excuse. I’m wasting both our tim—”
“Miss Yang?”
“Yes, Mr. Sun?”
“Let’s have those mooncakes. We have a lot to discuss.”
“So, which was it?”
Eileen perched on the seat across from me in the conservatory breakfast room, pouring us another cup of tea.
The mooncakes sat between us, untouched.
She placed the teapot back on the golden tray, angling its handle symmetrically between our cups, adding, “I’m referring to the assortment of household items that magically materialized whenever we misbehaved, growing up. Flip-flop?”
I reclined, sipping the loose-leaf tea, inspecting her behind the rim. “Believe it or not, my parents never threatened me.”
Perhaps this thing had legs after all.
That she stirred nothing in me was a feature, not a bug. She could never crawl under my skin, never sway me one way or the other.
“Ah.” She nodded, almost to herself. “The wall.”
I set the teacup on its saucer and thumbed away a drop that spilled over the edge. “My quads have been rock hard since I could talk.”
She cupped her mouth, giggling into her palm. For the first time in years, I felt at ease. Confident I’d fulfill the promise to my father.
I knew Eileen wouldn’t bust my chops if I taunted her. She was safe. A smart, logical choice.
The coup de grâce was that she reminded me of my mother in personality and experience, which meant I could never develop feelings for her in the long run, no matter how much time I spent with her.
“I always thought Mr. Sun would be formidable.” Eileen tilted her head, a distant glaze coating her eyes. “Growing up, I remember him so stern.”
“He was strict,” I confirmed. “But he had a soft side, too. He only showed it to me and Mom. What else do you remember about him?”
“I remember he adored you. He always spoke about you to my dad.”