Deep Dive: An enemies-to-lovers billionaire romance (Deep Love Series) by Lauren Winter (good books to read in english .TXT) 📕

“But why won’t she see me?”

Meghan smacks her lips impatiently. “Well, if you can’t figure it out. You don’t know her very well at all.”

Meghan’s words ring like mockery in my ears. I pace the pier for a long time, trying to decipher it. I sink onto a bench, sighing at the ocean in front of me. Amelia won’t marry me because she doesn’t think that I will stand by her? She doesn’t think that I love her? That’s ridiculous. Of course, I love her and she’s the only one I want.

I get to my feet. I have to find her.

I have never seen where Amelia lives until today. After I convince her landlady, a beefy woman, that I am not trying to sell her anything, she directs me to the door of the basement apartment. The building is old and rickety, and I can smell the faint smell of wood rot in the air. I knock on the little wooden door. A woman in a wheelchair opens the door for me. She is small and frail with frizzy blond hair.

“May I help you?” she asks sweetly.

There isn’t much resemblance between the mother and the daughter. I’m surprised to find. I tell myself that I need to get on the right foot with this woman. I need her help to get my girl back.

“My name is Fletcher Payne. I, I’m a friend of Amelia’s. May I come in?” I fumble over the words.

Her pale blue eyes widen slightly, and she backs up her wheelchair and lets me in.

“Have a seat.” She gestures toward the only chair in the room. “Would you like something to drink? We only have water and tea, I’m afraid.” She moves her wheelchair toward the little kitchen area. The apartment is small and sparsely furnished. There is only one room with an attached kitchen and a bathroom. The air is stuffy and dank. I had no idea that this is how they lived for so many years. I can’t believe anyone who used to be married to one of the richest men in the country could live like this. How much perseverance do these women have to survive like this?

I lower into the cheap folding chair and adjust my tie. The roses are wilting on my lap. I realize just how silly I must look.

“I, I’m looking for Amelia. Can you tell me where I can find her?” I want her to think well of me. After all, this woman could be my mother-in-law.

She turns her wheelchair toward me, and her blue eyes are questioning. “If you’re who I think you’re, I don’t think I should tell you,” she answers sagely.

I swallow. My necktie is too tight, and it’s too warm here in the basement. “I, I’m in love with your daughter, ma’am. I would like to marry her.”

“And why have you come to me?” Nothing escapes her sharp eyes as she politely hands me a glass of water.

“I already asked her. She said no,” I answer in a defeated tone.

A pale, thin brow raises up. “And what do you think I can do about it?”

Before I can answer, she asks, “Why do you want to marry her?”

I open my mouth again, but she cuts me off. “Because she’s beautiful? Smart? Sweet? Kind? There are lots of beautiful, smart, sweet, and kind girls out there. I love my daughter and I think she’s the best girl in the world, but I’d be an idiot to say that she is the only great girl in the world.”

I clear my throat and think quietly for a long moment.

“Because she’s brave. She’s not afraid of flaws, her own or other’s. Her bravery lets her see me for who I really am, an inconsiderate, pompous bastard, but she still cares for me even despite all that. I know I don’t deserve it but I love her all the more for it. Her bravery gave her the strength to be a fighter and to take you both away from her father. She’s the bravest person I know and I love her.”

The mother grows silent. I can tell that she is softening toward me.

“And why should she choose you?” she asks. Her head is held high and her haughty gaze forces me to straighten my stance.

“Um,” I stammer. “I love her.”

The lady shakes her head. With her long elegant hands resting on her lap, she looks like a queen on her throne passing judgment. “Empty words.”

“I want to be with her.” I cower slightly.

“That’s your problem. Not hers.”

“I want to take care of her.”

“She can take care of herself well enough,” she answers tartly.

“I’m rich. I have money.” I throw out my last card. “I can take care of both of you.”

“Young man,” the lady snaps. “We don’t need your charity. And if you know my daughter at all, you would know that she doesn’t need your or anyone’s money. She can take care of herself. What she needs.” She pauses and opens the front door. “Is a true partner. Someone who sees her as an equal, not a trophy or a pet. Someone who unselfishly supports her.” She shows me to the door. “I’m not sure if that would be you.”

“It’s not about what you will give to her, but what you’re willing to give up for her.” Amelia’s mother’s words ring in my ears.

Each step feels heavy, as if my feet have turned to lead. I stand dumbly and walk out the door. A million thoughts go through my head, but I don’t know what to do or say. Everything she has said is true. Amelia is smart and strong and she has never needed me. It has always been me who needs her. I desperately need her like a drowning man holding onto a liferaft. I think that with my wealth, I can offer something of value to her so that she’ll stay