“I wanted to win,” I say.
“Good, very good. And we appreciate it. But, ah, it’s not a binding thing. See what I’m saying?”
I shake my head. “I follow through on my promises. Where do I write the check?”
She blushes. “Of course, of course. No need for that now. Stay, enjoy yourself.”
“I’m going to head home,” I say. “Contact my office about the girl and the check.”
She frowns. “Surely you want to stay for a free meal at least? You’re so generous.”
“Contact my office,” I say again, glancing back at the room. “And tell the girl that Gavin Waller won her. I’m very much looking forward to meeting her.”
Without another word, I hurry away. Partly because I want to get away from that crowd, and partly because I don’t want to meet Sadie, not yet at least. I want to meet her on my terms, on a date of my choosing. Besides, I feel like I’ve made a fool of myself, bidding so much on her. That’s going to give the rich a lot to gossip about.
I don’t care though. All I can think about as I head home is Sadie Tillman, gorgeous and embarrassed, looking like something I’ve never seen before.
2
Sadie
“Are you ready, honey?”
My mother fusses over my hair and my outfit. I frown at the ground, trying not to think too much about what I’m going to do.
Just stand there and smile, I think to myself. I can do that, it’s not so hard.
“She’s on in a minute,” a man holding a clipboard says to my mother.
“You look great,” mother says to me, fussing again with renewed energy. “Remember, it doesn’t matter how much they pay for you. I just want you to get out there. Besides, Milo plans on winning.”
I have to force myself not to groan. Milo Fitzwilliam is a favorite of my mother and father. He’s the son and heir to the Fitzwilliam fortune, one of the most powerful families in the whole city. My family is up there, and they’ve been trying to arrange something with the Fitzwilliam family for a long time.
I’m supposed to be that something. I’m a bargaining chip to my parents. My mother is fussing and being kind right now, but only because she’s worried that I’m going to embarrass her out on that stage.
It doesn’t matter. I’m used to that sort of thing. My parents are constantly acting like I’m a failure and an embarrassment all because I don’t love horseback riding and I haven’t locked down a rich man yet. They’re excited that Milo is interested, but they’re afraid he’s our last chance.
They don’t ask me what I want, of course. That doesn’t matter. I’m a Tillman daughter, and that means I’ll do my duty for the family and marry a good rich boy. That’s just what I was born for and what I’m expected to do.
I didn’t get to go to college. I went to an elite prep school, of course, since my parents wouldn’t dream of sending me anywhere else. But while most of my other classmates got to go off to universities and colleges, I was forced to stay home with my family. My place isn’t at a university, my mother said, but marrying an eligible man. He can worry about taking care of me.
Sometimes, I dream about leaving. I dream about running away from my multi-story apartment and living in some tiny shack out in the woods. I’d learn to cook and clean and grow things. It’s a childish dream, I know, and it’ll never happen. But it just speaks toward how much I want to get away from my family and become my own person.
“You can do this,” my mother says to me as the man with the clipboard motions for me to follow him. “Don’t embarrass me.”
Her final words ring in my ears as I’m ushered away from her. Of course that’s all she cares about, not how I feel. I was never asked if I wanted to be auctioned off like some whore or piece of cattle. I was never asked if I wanted to go on a date with a random rich man. My parents felt this was a good thing for me to do, and so I’m doing it.
The stage is brightly lit and I can barely see out into the crowd. The applause is loud and I’m nervous as I step onto the little taped mark where I’m supposed to stand. I don’t know what to do with my arms, and so I wave a little bit, smiling nervously.
The bidding begins, and people are actually putting up money. I didn’t expect that. I never fit in with the other ultra wealthy and privileged girls. I tried to make friends at school, but I couldn’t care less about the trivial things that they were interested in. I don’t like riding horses and I have no interest in endlessly discussing boys and how much their families are worth. I like to read and paint, but nobody ever asked me about that. I have friends, of course, but nobody that close, and anyway they’re all gone off to college now.