Filthy Beast(74)

The dining room is the third room on the left. It’s connected to the kitchen. There’s a long table against the far wall with a buffet-style setup, like every morning, and a couple staff members stand quietly against the back wall. One of them, Thomas, gives me a little wink, and I smile back at him. Thomas is one of my favorite staff members.

It’s weird to live in a house that’s more like a hotel. We have people that work for us, who cook and clean and take care of things for us. I didn’t realize that was strange when I was a little girl. I assumed everyone had that in their homes.

But I know better now. My life is far from ordinary, and sometimes I don’t like that. Sometimes I wish I knew how normal people lived. I want to know what it’s like to have real responsibility and not endless privilege.

“Good morning.” I look over and spot my father, sitting in his normal position, looking at me. Peter is sitting to my father’s left, not paying attention to anything around him. Michael is to his right, reading the paper, and my mother is nowhere to be seen.

“Good morning,” I say absently. I grab a plate and get my food and a cup of coffee.

“Morning,” Peter says as I sit down next to him. He pauses then turns to me, eyes wide. “How was your date?” He seems excited, a little smile on his face.

I can already sense my father’s disapproving glare. “It was fine,” I say, turning to my food, but Peter doesn’t take the hint.

“Come on, tell me about it. Where did he take you?”

I pause, willing myself not to look at father or Michael, though they’re both watching me now.

“A place in his old neighborhood,” I say. “Luberto’s.”

“Was it nice?” Peter asks.

“Not really,” I say. “But it also was. It was a local place, very family-oriented, and he’s clearly been there a lot—“

My father interrupts you. “I’m not surprised he took you to a place like that.”

The table falls silent and I look over at my father. “It was nice,” I say.

“It’s probably dangerous.” He makes a face. “Filthy, trash-ridden, and unsanitary. You should never have been set up with a man like that.”

“It was for charity,” I say softly.

“Father is right,” Michael says, his gaze cold. “Gavin Waller has a bad reputation. It’s good Reginald was with you.”

I frown a little bit. I don’t know much about Gavin’s reputation, but I do know that my father dislikes anyone who wasn’t born with a silver spoon in their mouth.

“Gavin was a gentleman,” I say.

“Your brother is right,” father says. “Gavin is no good for you. I’m glad that debacle is all over with.” He turns back to his food with a satisfied smile on his face.

I glance down at my plate and suddenly feel anger welling up inside of me. I don’t know how many times my brother and father have told me how I need to live my life, how I need to behave and not embarrass them. I’m sick of them treating me like I’m some little girl still.

“I’m not hungry,” I say, pushing my plate away.

“Sadie,” Peter says, but I just ignore him.

I turn and leave the dining room. My father and Michael don’t say anything to stop me. They probably just think I’m being hysterical or emotional.

Maybe I am, but I’m angry. I’m so tired of them treating me like a little girl.

I hurry back to my room and shut the door softly. I sigh and head into my closet, curling up in my little nook with my laptop.

I spend the rest of the morning searching for information on Gavin Waller. There’s not a whole lot out there, but I quickly come to understand what his reputation is.

He’s a notorious playboy. He’s never been married, but apparently he has been with every high society woman in the city, and he never settles for long. He’s filthy rich and handsome, of course, but he doesn’t seem interested in anything longterm. He doesn’t seem interested in a family.

I sigh, leaning against the wall. I don’t even know if I want a family, although of course that’s expected of me. I’m supposed to marry a guy like Milo and breed little blue-blood babies with him until the day that I die. Somehow, that life doesn’t sound very rewarding.

But Gavin seems real somehow, more real than Milo or my parents. I’ve barely had a taste of him, but I’m already so interested. I know it would probably be better if I just forgot about him, but I can’t help but think about him.

As I start to daydream about Gavin’s hands on my body, there’s suddenly a knock at the bedroom door. I get up quickly and head over. I open it softly. Thomas stands there, smiling at me.