Prince Player(151)

I blink, a little surprised. I wasn’t in the mood for fish. I was going to order the biggest, juiciest steak on this damn menu and at least try to enjoy that. But by the time I come to my senses, the waiter is already gone.

Milo smiles at me. “Have I ever told you about my father’s yacht?”

I shake my head. “No, I didn’t know he had one.” Of course I knew he has one. Every rich person has one. It’s so cliché.

“Well, we used to go fishing off the coast of Australia. We’d catch these enormous…”

I tune him out again, looking down at my napkin. Milo is nice enough, I guess, but he doesn’t seem to care about anything but talking about himself. In fact, another big difference I noticed between Milo and Gavin is that Milo doesn’t ask me questions about myself.

Gavin seemed genuinely interested in me. He asked questions about my life and followed up on the answers. But he didn’t ask much about my family at all, now that I think about it. He was more interested in me, what I like to do, what my hobbies are.

Milo only seems to care about himself and his family. He’s the kind of man I’ve met a hundred times before, obsessed with image and influence, the sort of stuff my own family is interested in. Even Peter buys into that. Peter is the only person in my family who seems to give a shit about me, but even he is obsessed with image and status above everything else.

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to live a normal life. I wonder if I would be happy without the money and the status. All this privilege gives me great stuff, and gives me so many opportunities. I don’t have to worry about money. But it also forces me into other roles, like having to be basically auctioned off to the highest bidder. I’m more of a tool than a person in my family structure, but with Gavin, I feel like I’m actually valued as a woman.

Eventually our food comes, which is a really nice distraction from Milo’s monologue. At some point he switched over from yachts to inheritance tax structure, which is always a popular subject with the ultra rich. It doesn’t matter to me, since I won’t inherit much of anything. My parents want to marry me off to someone else that can take care of me.

As I listen to Milo and our dinner finishes up, something important strikes me. Right now, I don’t have anything that’s just mine.

Sure, I have a lot of things. I have clothes and privilege and money and all that, but none of it is actually mine. I didn’t earn any of it. I’ve been given everything, and if my parents have their way, I’ll be given everything for the rest of my life. I see women like that, running charities and having lots of kids, but they never seem fulfilled. Right now, nothing I have is my own, but I want something that’s truly just mine.

The dinner ends and Milo pays, of course, making sure I notice the generous tip he leaves. It’s not impressive, since I know that’s all his family money and he didn’t really earn any of it. We head out and Milo’s driver takes us back to my apartment.

“I had a nice time,” Milo says to me. He slides across the seat, sitting close.

Dread suddenly falls down my throat. “Sure, me too,” I say.

“You know, I wasn’t sure about this match. Your parents can be a little… intense.”

I smile at him. “That’s true.”

“But it is a good match,” he continues. “You’re from good stock and so am I.”

I cringe at that word, “stock,” like we’re freaking animals or something.

“That’s true,” I say, wanting this ride to be over so desperately I can practically taste it.

“You’ve always been different, Sadie. I don’t know what it is, but I thought maybe you were different in a bad way. But now I see that you’re worth my time.”

I cringe again. “Thanks,” I say, looking away from him.

He doesn’t get the hint. He reaches out and takes my chin, turning my head toward him.

Panic sets in, real and true panic. He leans toward me, clearly intending to kiss me, and I don’t know what to do.

I turn my face away from him. He stops, inches away from me.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“I, uh, I’m sorry,” I say. “I don’t kiss on the first date.”

I don’t look at him. This is so awful. I don’t want to kiss this man or have anything to do with him, but I’m forced to be here. In a lot of ways, he is too, but he doesn’t realize it.

“Yes, of course,” he says, moving away. “That’s more proper.” He smiles to himself, creating the lie in his mind and believing it.

Mercifully, the car pulls up in front of my building. He goes to say something, maybe wanting to set up another date, but I don’t give him the chance. I jump out of the car and hurry back inside, not able to stand another second with Milo.