More Than a Billionaire (29 page)

It hadn’t been his original intention to go on once he obtained his bachelor’s degree. After all, it wasn’t like he’d ever use it. After a semester away from course work, however, he’d found he’d missed it, so he applied and was accepted into a master’s program at MIT.

Before he opened the file containing this month’s expenses, he logged into the bed and breakfast’s email account. Some days they received only one or two messages, while other days they received over a dozen inquiries. Today five messages popped up. Starting with the first one, he worked his way down the list, able to often cut and paste a prepared response to most of them.

When he hit the last one, the subject line grabbed his attention. Unlike the others that said something like “booking a room” or “thank you for a great stay,” this one read “hello Sean.” He never received personal emails on this account. He kept a separate email account, which he used for friends and classmates.

For a moment he considered deleting the message. More than likely it was a spam message or some other kind of phishing email. If he opened it, he would probably find a message telling him he’d won a million dollars; all he needed to do was transfer a hundred dollars to some account in Africa. Both his personal email and The Victorian Rose’s email got those messages from time to time, despite the filters he’d set up.

Prepared to hit the tiny trash can icon next to the message, he moved the cursor toward it, but at the last minute changed his mind. Just to be on the safe side, he double clicked it.

He scanned the brief message once and then again, unable to accept the words. It had to be a mistake. The guy hadn’t contacted him in eighteen years. Pulling his eyes away from the screen, he focused on the picture on the wall, a photo of the town common at sunset. This email had to be some kind of joke from one of his buddies. A few of them had a sick sense of humor and would find something like this humorous.

He dropped his gaze back to the screen. As he read the message again, his temper inched a little farther toward the ceiling and his fingernails dug into his palms as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

“Excuse me do you—” a female voice started from the doorway but came to an abrupt halt.

Slowly he registered the voice nearby, but it sounded far away.

“Are you okay?”

She sounded a little closer this time. Or maybe it just seemed closer, he wasn’t sure. Forcing his eyes to leave the screen and the message there, he turned and saw Mia in the doorway, concern on her face.

“Can I help you?” With his attention distracted from the email, his brain registered the pain in his gritted teeth.

“It can wait until later,” Mia answered as she took another step into the office. “Are you okay? You look upset.”

He paused, surprised by her question. Other than his mother and sister, no one ever inquired about his well-being. If others never asked, why would their newest guest? “I’m fine. Do you need something?”

The needs of the guests came first. He’d deal with this email later.

Mia stopped next to the desk, and rested her fingertips on the top, her pink nail polish extra bright next to the dark wood. “You don’t look fine. You’re white as a sheet. You look as if you saw a ghost.”

Not saw, heard from
. Sean forced his shoulders to relax and unclenched his fists. “I got a message from someone I didn’t expect. It’s nothing.”

He watched Mia’s eyes move as she looked at him. With her baseball hat gone, he could clearly see that they were not plain brown but rather the color of whiskey with tiny specs of gold, and at the moment they seemed to be studying him as if she could see into his soul. “Is something wrong with your room?” He met her gaze and waited.

“The room is perfect. I hoped you could recommend a place for dinner.”

“Sure. Masterson’s has American food—things like chicken and steak. It’s on the other side of town near the schools. If you want Italian food, Tuscany is good. It’s down by the river. There’s also The Jade Orient. They serve both Japanese and Chinese food. They’re next door to Quinn’s Hardware.” The answers rolled off his tongue without any thought required.

Mia nodded. “Thanks.”

When she left, he swung his eyes back to the message that remained unchanged on the screen, the signature at the bottom taunting him. The man had some massive balls to think he could reach out like this now. After eighteen years, his father was the last person he wanted to reconnect with. He prepared to delete the message but then changed his mind and typed out a short message that made his feelings crystal clear.

End of Excerpt