de Winter. The Morrow legacy. And I will not let someone else have it.”
She hadn’t been wrong. As she suspected, this was important to him.
Which made things so much more difficult.
It wouldn’t be difficult if you didn’t care.
But that was the problem. She was starting to.
“You care about it,” she said. “It’s personal to you.”
Another flicker in his eyes. His mouth curled as he smiled again, his shoulders relaxing as he folded his arms. “We’re territorial bastards, us Morrows. Everything is personal to us.”
Yet Victoria wasn’t fooled. He was minimizing. Deflecting. Yes, he cared and, yes, it was personal.
A pressure settled in her chest. Because this was going to leave her with even fewer options.
Donovan clearly wasn’t going to agree to sell, which meant she would have to go over his head and take the De Winter offer to Jax directly. It was either that or leave it, find some other land for her development. But that wouldn’t mean anything to her father …
“So what’s De Winter’s interest in this?” Donovan asked. That smile played around his mouth but his gaze had turned sharp, piercing. “There are other pieces of real estate in New York. You don’t need Morrow’s.”
Victoria pushed herself away from the table, abruptly turning and walking back to the window again, staring unseeing through the glass.
It would be a risk to tell him, to reveal that this was personal to her, too. Hand him a weakness he could use to his advantage. And yet …
I’ve got you. Trust me.
She focused on a helicopter coming in to land on the rooftop of a nearby building, hovering like a giant bumblebee as the pilot lined up the helipad. “No, De Winter doesn’t need Morrow land. But I do.”
“Why? What does this land matter to you?”
“It doesn’t matter to me, at least not in the way you think. But …” She turned around. “It matters to my father. He wants a piece of the Morrow legacy, and that particular piece, with that particular history, is pretty much perfect.”
Donovan didn’t move, still in that relaxed, easy sprawl. But his eyes were cold. “That piece of land has nothing to do with your father.”
“Actually, it does. Dad is pretty certain his grandfather used to own it and was cheated out of it by a Morrow. He thinks it’s de Winter land and he wants it back.”
“How interesting. That’s not in any of our history.”
“Yes, well, that’s the story Dad tells.”
“So presumably it’s your job to get it back?”
Victoria took a breath. “He didn’t send me after it if that’s what you’re thinking. Buying the land was my idea.”
“Why? What do you get out of it? A nice fat bonus? A promotion?” He lifted one dark brow. “A pat on the head for being such a good girl?”
He’ll finally see that blood doesn’t matter. That you’re a de Winter and always have been.
But how could she say that? What would Donovan know about the need to belong? About the need to prove yourself in order to feel part of something? He was the rich and privileged son of a rich and privileged family. A family he’d been born into. He wouldn’t understand what it felt like to have your acceptance into your own family conditional. Because you didn’t have the blood. Because the one person who wanted you died and you were a walking, talking reminder of that death.
Because you were an unwanted gift that couldn’t be returned.
He didn’t know. He had no idea.
Victoria glanced away out the window. “Dad said he’d admit me to the De Winter board. And formally make me his successor.”
“So, a promotion then.”
No. It was so much more, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. It was too personal, gave away far too much. “An important promotion,” she amended carefully.
Donovan let out a breath. “Well, as much as I’d love to sell my birthright for your important promotion, I believe my answer stands. Not at any price, Ms. de Winter.”
She hadn’t expected
She hadn’t been wrong. As she suspected, this was important to him.
Which made things so much more difficult.
It wouldn’t be difficult if you didn’t care.
But that was the problem. She was starting to.
“You care about it,” she said. “It’s personal to you.”
Another flicker in his eyes. His mouth curled as he smiled again, his shoulders relaxing as he folded his arms. “We’re territorial bastards, us Morrows. Everything is personal to us.”
Yet Victoria wasn’t fooled. He was minimizing. Deflecting. Yes, he cared and, yes, it was personal.
A pressure settled in her chest. Because this was going to leave her with even fewer options.
Donovan clearly wasn’t going to agree to sell, which meant she would have to go over his head and take the De Winter offer to Jax directly. It was either that or leave it, find some other land for her development. But that wouldn’t mean anything to her father …
“So what’s De Winter’s interest in this?” Donovan asked. That smile played around his mouth but his gaze had turned sharp, piercing. “There are other pieces of real estate in New York. You don’t need Morrow’s.”
Victoria pushed herself away from the table, abruptly turning and walking back to the window again, staring unseeing through the glass.
It would be a risk to tell him, to reveal that this was personal to her, too. Hand him a weakness he could use to his advantage. And yet …
I’ve got you. Trust me.
She focused on a helicopter coming in to land on the rooftop of a nearby building, hovering like a giant bumblebee as the pilot lined up the helipad. “No, De Winter doesn’t need Morrow land. But I do.”
“Why? What does this land matter to you?”
“It doesn’t matter to me, at least not in the way you think. But …” She turned around. “It matters to my father. He wants a piece of the Morrow legacy, and that particular piece, with that particular history, is pretty much perfect.”
Donovan didn’t move, still in that relaxed, easy sprawl. But his eyes were cold. “That piece of land has nothing to do with your father.”
“Actually, it does. Dad is pretty certain his grandfather used to own it and was cheated out of it by a Morrow. He thinks it’s de Winter land and he wants it back.”
“How interesting. That’s not in any of our history.”
“Yes, well, that’s the story Dad tells.”
“So presumably it’s your job to get it back?”
Victoria took a breath. “He didn’t send me after it if that’s what you’re thinking. Buying the land was my idea.”
“Why? What do you get out of it? A nice fat bonus? A promotion?” He lifted one dark brow. “A pat on the head for being such a good girl?”
He’ll finally see that blood doesn’t matter. That you’re a de Winter and always have been.
But how could she say that? What would Donovan know about the need to belong? About the need to prove yourself in order to feel part of something? He was the rich and privileged son of a rich and privileged family. A family he’d been born into. He wouldn’t understand what it felt like to have your acceptance into your own family conditional. Because you didn’t have the blood. Because the one person who wanted you died and you were a walking, talking reminder of that death.
Because you were an unwanted gift that couldn’t be returned.
He didn’t know. He had no idea.
Victoria glanced away out the window. “Dad said he’d admit me to the De Winter board. And formally make me his successor.”
“So, a promotion then.”
No. It was so much more, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. It was too personal, gave away far too much. “An important promotion,” she amended carefully.
Donovan let out a breath. “Well, as much as I’d love to sell my birthright for your important promotion, I believe my answer stands. Not at any price, Ms. de Winter.”
She hadn’t expected
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