Lies and Weddings(69)
Rufus laughed, slipping into the warm water and floating out to the middle of the pool. He stared up at the dramatically domed ceiling over the pool, the glowing points of light from the antique copper lantern dangling high above filtering through the steam reminding him of a spaceship hovering amid the stars. A vision of Eden standing in his outdoor shower at night suddenly flickered in his mind.
Martha stared openly at his washboard torso skimming the surface of the water. Finally she blurted out, “You are ridiculously hot, Rufus Gresham.”
Rufus laughed uncomfortably. “I’m not sure what to say in response to that.”
“Just say thank you. I can’t be the first person to say it.”
“It’s always a bit weird when people compliment me on my looks, since I had absolutely nothing to do with it. It makes me feel like a freak, actually.”
“A freak? Really?”
“A lot of people who comment on my appearance couch the compliment with questions like, ‘So, what are you? Are you mixed?’ It makes it feel like I’m some sort of exotic specimen. Or worse, I’ve even had people say to me, ‘You’re so lucky you’re hapa. All hapas look hot.’ The subtext being that if I wasn’t of mixed heritage, I wouldn’t be attractive. It’s quite fucked up.”
“All the same, I’d be happy to trade bodies with you any day.”
“You say that, but do you know what that actually means? The minute I walk out the door, I can feel all eyes on me, automatically judging me. Most people assume I’m dumb, shallow, or arrogant. Or all three. They think I’m going to be unfriendly, so they put up their guard first and treat me coldly. Or it’s the opposite reaction, and they get too friendly. They chase me around the room like I’m just some fuckboy who will jump into bed with anyone.”
Martha sighed. “Now I feel like a shit. I’m doing to you exactly what people do to me. People look at me and all they ever see is dollar signs. It’s the same, isn’t it? I’m extremely loaded, you’re extremely hot, any kind of extreme always has its downsides. I’m sorry, I wish I could take my words back. I’m too blunt most of the time.”
“It’s fine. Look, it’s hard to talk about all this without sounding like some entitled prat. I know I’m bloody lucky, but it’s always been difficult for me to make real friends—people who genuinely want to connect with me, rather than with my title or my country house or my family’s resorts. I don’t usually complain like this, but I’m being completely open with you because I think you’ll understand.”
“You have no idea how much I do. There are so few people in this world I can actually trust. Everyone assumes my life is a perfect fantasy, or that I don’t deserve any of my fortune. No one realizes how much work it is to be responsible for my company. Sure, I was extremely fortunate to inherit it from my father, but I was barely twenty and you can’t imagine the pressure I was under not to fuck it up. Suddenly, I was responsible for tens of thousands of employees, and I still am. These are real people with families, with children, with lives, and I don’t take any of it lightly. I’ve had to work a hundred times harder than everyone else just to prove that I’m not some spoiled heiress. My father was a bit of an old-fashioned sexist—he never imagined a girl would be good at business and thought I should just marry some bloke who could manage it all. But I proved him wrong. Bit by bit, I’ve transformed his legacy into my own. I’ve taken terrible, polluting factories and turned them into clean energy businesses. I’ve shut down all companies I didn’t agree with ethically and begun investing in new technologies. When my father died, he was worth three billion dollars—I’ve turned it into fifty.”
“That’s bloody impressive.”
“Personally, I’d still rather be fuckable than rich any day.”
“Trust me, it really depends who’s doing the fucking.”
Martha guffawed. “Rufus Gresham, I like you more than I ever thought I would. You’re so much more than just a guy who irons his shirt topless.”
“Let me share a secret with you…I don’t actually know how to iron.”
“Haha, neither do I. So…I’m guessing you’re in love with that cute blond art historian but your family doesn’t approve?”
Rufus paused for a moment, wondering whether he felt comfortable enough to confide in Martha fully. “Actually, the girl I’m in love with has gorgeous dark hair just like yours. She’s Chinese, and everyone in my family adores her, except my mother.”
“Classic. Why doesn’t Mummy approve?”
“I don’t think she considers her to be posh enough, and she doesn’t have the sort of fortune that can help restore the family coffers.”
“What does she do?”
“She’s a doctor.”
“Don’t all Asian mothers love doctors?”
“You haven’t met mine.”
“How long have you two been together?”
“We’re not, but we’ve been the best of friends since childhood, really.”
“So even though you’re not technically together you’d like to marry her someday?”
Rufus swam nearer to where Martha was lounging and put his chin onto the lip of the pool. “You know, for the longest time I dreaded the thought of marriage. Knowing that duty dictated I should get married and produce an heir to continue the Gresham line, I always resented it. But being here at this wedding, seeing the way Christian talked about Amanda during his toast and watching the two of them on that balloon ride today, it made me realize how much I actually want to marry Eden someday. But I’ve mucked it all up, so it’s never going to happen.”