As she pushes my hand away, she laughs. “Are you suggesting you’re the right man?”
Now I laugh, but for some reason, it feels phony. “Hell no. No. No.”
“I was kidding.” Ingrid reaches out, her fingers brushing against the soft skin of the hand she just swatted away.
A jolt of electricity travels up my arm, and my heart jumps again.
“Don’t worry, Darius. I would never suggest that. There’s no chance in hell we’d ever work. Plus, you don’t do relationships, right? So, it seems like a heartbreak in the making and I’m… I’m done with those.”
In that moment, something inside me changes. I feel it deep down. The coldness that once encased my heart, for as long as I can remember, warms. I grab my chest to make sure my heart doesn’t explode when life pumps back into it.
This is a brand-new emotion I’m feeling. She’s different from all the other women I know and may just be the death of me. Force me to do something I never thought I’d do. Take a stand against my family and show them they don’t control me. Push me to wake up and appreciate what I’ve been missing out on during my years of hibernation.
Everything feels possible—a big change from my old, boring life.
I feel free.
Chapter 2
Ingrid
What the hell am I doing chatting it up with the Duke of Falcon?
Men like him are the reason I vowed to stay single and get lost in a lab. He reminds me so much of my father, a manipulative womanizer who sees women as objects for his own pleasure.
I’m determined to avoid my mother’s fate and not become dependent on a man who can only support my lifestyle, while he refuses to see my worth.
What a boring, sad life.
Social status isn’t important to me. My heart aches for a life that is meaningful. My goals are bigger than any party my mother’s thrown. It’s about changing the world, impacting it in ways that matter, not just the high-nose society.
I’ve been fighting an uphill battle my whole life, and it never seems to end. My family envisions a future for me that doesn’t align with my own. My decision to attend Princeton was influenced by my father’s vision of my destiny. Prompted by the man he saw as my future, who also attended Princeton. He’s afew years ahead of me in school, and he’ll graduate when next year ends. Once he does, my father will welcome him into the family business, and my life will be yanked out from under me. Unless I can figure out a way to derail those plans. All my efforts so far have turned into a colossal failure.
An hour ago, my father called. Voicing his expectations of how the next year and a half will play out.
“When you return to Princeton after this unapproved trip, you will start treating Wilson with respect. Do as you are told, or I’m cutting off your allowance. This is the last time I’m having this conversation with you, Ingrid.”
Lord Wilson Culberson, my betrothed—gag me—has a reputation for being a womanizer. He’s a fucking snob who hasn’t even bothered pretending to be a loyal, faithful companion. He’s stuffed his dick inside every skirt that’s lifted it for him. So, I’ve given him the cold shoulder. Ignored his calls or invitations to dinner. Why would I want to go? Yet I’m the one who gets yelled at, the one who they expect to look the other way—let him get it out of his system now. We all know he won’t, that he’ll continue to fuck around on me after we marry. Not that I plan to marry him. I’m not sure how I’ll get out of it, but I will. Somehow, I will.
If I behaved like him, hopping from partner to partner as if they were treats in a candy store, I’d be ostracized. Put to shame and labeled a whore.
Why is it okay for him, but not me? Not that I’m out fucking anyone. But that’s not the point. It pisses me off that they expect me to pretend this is just a phase. One that will make him a better husband one day.
Bull-fucking-shite.
The rules of the community where I grew up are stifling and hypocritical. The young men are allowed to play the field andenjoy life during these years, while we young ladies are required toplay niceand wait it out.
Such bullshit.
Why shouldn’t I also be allowed to have fun and let loose? I think it’s only fair, given I’m destined to fake happiness in a loveless, boring marriage. I should be allowed to let my hair down and have the same experiences, but each time I dare to try, I get reprimanded.
My father was furious when he heard I’d run off with Winifred for spring break without telling him. I’m an adult, so why do I have to tell him everything? Just thinking about it again ticks me off.
“How dare you embarrass us by running off with two men who you have no business being with? Do you know your mother had to lie to that crazy Batista woman, tell her we approved and trusted you to make smart decisions? Mind explaining why she believes you’re dating Prince Esteban?”
I’d nearly swallowed my tongue when he asked that question. How was I to explain? Thankfully, I wasn’t given the chance.
“No matter. I think you’ve had enough freedom. I’ll be flying to the States next week, and when I leave, you can come with.”
