“One that you’ve more than tripled with your brilliant investments,” she inserted.
“—and I’m too proud of what I’ve accomplished on my own to start living off heiresses at this point in my life.”
“Dylan,” she remonstrated, scowling severely.
He laughed and stroked her cheek. “Do we agree on it?”
“Yes,” she grumbled. She found the conversation highly unsettling.
“Good, because now that we have that out of the way, I have something to say about us.”
“What?”
“I want you to live here with me.”
Her eyes went wide. In typical Dylan-like fashion, he’d stated his case with blunt succinctness. No beating around the bush with him. She reached for his other hand and stepped into him.
“Are you sure? You don’t think people will talk? If I take a junior executive position at Durand and move in with the CEO?”
“Oh, they’ll talk, all right,” he assured bluntly. “That’s a guarantee. Rumors are going to be off the charts, so if that’s going to bother you, then we’ll have to come up with another arrangement. I think we both have to be prepared for some major gossip and backlash when it comes to us. We can’t let it pull us apart.”
“That would never keep me from something that’s so important to me,” she insisted fiercely.
He touched her cheek again. “This is your home. It has been from the beginning.”
She squeezed his hand. “You’re right,” she said feelingly.
He looked mildly surprised at her easy acquiescence, and then very pleased.
“But not because it was Alan and Lynn’s house,” she added softly. She went up on her toes and brushed her mouth against his. “Because you’re here.”
*
THE first flickering of panic occurred as they drove to the press conference, and Alice noticed news vans parked on either side of the road a good half a mile from the hotel entrance. She heard a muted, familiar noise and peered upward through the windshield to see one hovering helicopter, then another.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
Dylan gave her a quick, flickering glance, and suddenly he was putting on the brakes and sliding the sedan behind a white van. He put the car in park and turned toward her.
“The story itself actually broke this morning. The Durand public relations staff drafted a statement and sent it out to the major press outlets. It’ll have circulated by now. The statement basically said that Alan Durand’s kidnapped daughter is alive and has returned, and that the details relate to the recent attack of a woman named Alice Reed by Durand Vice President Sebastian Kehoe.”
“Oh,” she said numbly. “I thought that was what was going to be released at the press conference.”
“More details will be addressed there, but the staff thought it would be helpful in distributing the story if the media was informed of at least the basic facts before it began.” Alice nodded, the muted rat-a-tat-tat noise of the helicopters making it difficult for her to focus. “The press has been given strict guidelines that they can’t bombard you with questions,” he said firmly. “You can make a general statement, if you like, but you don’t have to. Then someone from Durand media relations will call on three or four reporters to ask you questions. Answer as briefly or as fully as you want. If you don’t know the answer, just say so. There’s no crime in that. This is all brand new to you, and if the press doesn’t get that, screw them. Sound okay?” he asked, cupping her shoulder.
“I just didn’t expect there to be so many,” she said, staring out the window as a news crew bustled past them on the side of the road.
Dylan grimaced. “Yeah, well . . . as much as I hate to admit it, it’s a sexy story. Young, beautiful heiress returned to her legacy after being kidnapped as a child of four.”
“They don’t know who I am. And how is any of this sexy?” Alice asked, frowning in disbelief out the window.
“I know. Being kidnapped, told you were another person for twenty years and attacked isn’t sexy, but for the media, this is a gold mine. I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t write the rules,” he added when she rolled her eyes. He quirked a brow and stared out the window as a woman and a man holding a camera passed. “Look at it from their perspective. For one thing, you’re one of the wealthiest women in the world and they’re about to get an eyeful of you. They might not know what you look like yet, but once they do.” He gave her a droll glance. “Welcome to the circus.”
“I’m reconsidering accepting the invitation.”
His fingers inched to the back of her neck. He stroked her nape softly. Despite her rush of anxiety, her nerves tingled in awareness.
“Do you want me to take you back to the castle?”
“What?” she asked, eyes going wide. She hadn’t expected him to say that.
He shrugged. “It’s fine with me if you don’t want to do this. It’s not going to change the basic facts.”