Total pages in book: 16
Estimated words: 15283 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 76(@200wpm)___ 61(@250wpm)___ 51(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15283 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 76(@200wpm)___ 61(@250wpm)___ 51(@300wpm)
“You know I’ve never been like you. You like putting yourself out there and meeting a ton of women. That’s not me. I can’t trust people as easily as you do.”
“Trust? What I do with them has nothing to do with trust. Not unless there’s a safe word involved.” Daniel laughs.
“Come on, man, be serious for once. You never think about getting married? Maybe one day having some kids?”
“I did once. A long time ago. That wasn’t meant to be, though. Listen, if you want to get all sappy and shit, I’ll tell you. I believe there’s one person out there for everyone. I already met mine, and I fucked it up. Because of that, I’m destined to live the life of a bachelor with a different woman every night.” He sighs. “It’s a tough life, but someone has to live it.”
I shake my head. “What was that? Twenty seconds of seriousness? Maybe thirty?”
“It might be a new record,” Daniel says. “But okay, fine, I can be serious. What do you know about her so far?”
“Not much. From what Abe told me, she comes from a wealthy family so she won’t care about my money because that’s a normal part of life for her.”
“So if it’s not about money, then why is she looking to marry some stranger? Don’t you think that’s odd?”
“I hadn’t really thought about it. I just figured since I have my reasons, she has her reasons, too. It’s something we can learn about each other.”
“Ugh, you’re being a little too positive about this whole thing. You know I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“I know you don’t. And I wasn’t sure at first, but I think it’s the right thing for me. I want to get married. I’m tired of my restaurants being my life. There has to be more. Plus, you know how I am with women. I fall too easily.”
“And what if you don’t like her? Or what if…” Daniel’s voice lowers to a whisper. “What if she’s ugly?”
I laugh. “Will you stop? We’re going to meet today to see how it goes.”
“Alright, alright. But if she’s ugly or stupid, then you know why she agreed to an arranged marriage. No other reason a woman would go along with this. Women are smarter than us.”
“You’re a horrible human being,” I joke.
“I know, but you’re my friend, so what does that say about you?”
“I don’t want to know.”
“Hey, you know what? Do you know Jacques Carpentier? I heard recently that he married a nineteen-year-old college student. Not like him to date someone so young,” he says. “I wonder if that was an arranged marriage, too.”
“You never know,” I say.
“Nah, I can’t imagine why he’d do that. He was always dating one beautiful woman after another. Then again, you’re agreeing to an arranged marriage. Maybe I’m missing something here.”
“I could always put in touch with the group.”
Daniel laughs. “No, I don’t know what I was thinking. Temporary insanity or something. Anyway, I’ll talk to you later.”
The tree-lined winding road reminds me of my Hamptons home, where I spend most of my time. Wagner Estate slowly comes into view, so I slow down the car, not wanting to be too early and appear too excited.
Abe didn’t tell me much when he called to arrange this meeting. But he did tell me I would be meeting with Emil Wagner and his daughter, Emilee. My understanding is that this isn’t the norm and that we usually meet at the wedding, but Emil wanted it this way.
As I step out of the car, the wind tousles my hair. Standing at the open front door is a butler in a traditional black suit.
Am I making a mistake?
The thought stops me in my tracks before I push away the doubts. While this might not be for everyone, I have high hopes.
The butler ushers me into an oversized office near the mansion’s front door. A well-dressed man with thick salt and pepper hair is seated at his desk. He looks up from some paperwork with piercing ebony eyes and stands. As I approach, he comes out from behind his desk and extends his hand to me with a smile.
“Alexander Winterbourne,” he says. “Self-made restauranteur who built the Stirling construction empire but was then disowned. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“I can tell,” I say, shaking his hand. “And you’re Emil Wagner.”
His smile grows. “I’m sure you’ve done your homework. Come, sit.” He motions to a corner of the office, where two plush seats are next to a stone fireplace. “We are both busy men, and if things work out as planned, we’ll have plenty of time to socialize another time. Let’s get straight to business.”
The butler places two glasses of ice water on a small table between our seats. I take the glass and nod at Emil before drinking.