I bit back my sarcastic comment. “I think so.” I wanted to fight against their opinions, but I didn’t grow up in poverty. I had generational wealth, just like them. I knew basic etiquette and was able to hold polite conversations, but beyond that, I wasn’t proud of my wealth and status like everyone else.
While the two women chatted about places around the city they wanted to try, I began to spiral into my own thoughts. What about me drew Max’s attention in the first place? I was nothing like these women, and actively fought against their lifestyle. Had he found the idea of ‘breaking me’ a challenge? All of it was disgusting, and by the time coffee and dessert were served, I was disgusted with myself.It truly felt like there was no winning. Being rich and snobby was contradictory to my being, but being humble and kind attracted the worst kind of men.
Not all of them.
My mind drifted to the blindfolded kiss I’d had just two nights ago. He wasn’t like these men, despite having the wealth. Or maybe he was. I had no idea who he was.
I just knew how his lips tasted.
“Daisy?” Max interrupted my thoughts.
“Mm?” I turned my attention to him.
“The Tennant. You’ve been inside. How does it compare to the original?”
“Yes. It’s actually impressive how they are taking great effort to restore it, just as it was.”
The conversation moved to the speed of the renovations and the merits of it. Would it pay off for the owner? Was the massive overtime and extra crew worth it to get it done fast? Time would tell.
Dinner eventually ended, and only once we were in the car, alone, and on the way home, could I let out a breath.
“You did well,” Max complimented. “The wives seemed to find you entertaining. Perhaps we can take them to a show sometime, or maybe you can show them your home studio.”
I didn’t say anything, still lost in thoughts about the dilemma of being born into wealth I appreciated but didn’t need.
I could live a happy life without the money. All I truly needed was...
“Daisy!” Max shouted.
I blinked and turned to him.
“What?”
“You’ve been doing this all night. What has your attentionso rapt that you can’t listen to me for even a few moments?”
When I didn’t reply, he pulled over to the side of the empty road and took his seat belt off. My eyes widened, and I pressed my back to the door. In one swift movement, he raised his hand and slapped me across the face.
I flinched back, covering my face with my hands and shrinking down into my seat as he pulled back.
“I don’t know what’s going on with you lately, but I’m losing patience, Daisy. September 23rd, we are setting a wedding date, and you’ll be giving your notice to your ballet company.” He put his seat belt on and got back on the road.
I cried silently, refusing to give him a big show.
“Why September 23rd? What is so special about that date?” I asked when we got home and I’d stopped crying.
A slow, evil grin spread across his lips.
“That’s when Lydia comes home from school. It’s time to be a mother, Daisy.”
Chapter 19
Gatsby
The music filtered upfrom downstairs, taunting my cowardice. I glanced at my watch and continued to pace. The party was well underway, with everything perfect. Well, other than the dessert. I went to the window and looked out at Neal’s modest home. All the lights were off. I’d watched them walk over earlier, so I knew they had, in fact, gotten their invitation.
I apologized to my staff shortly before the doors opened this evening. I’d been short with all of them over the need for perfection this week, and it was unfair to them, especially Jules. I’d pulled him in after my dance with Daisy to apologize privately. I’d drastically overreacted. He understood.
“One day, when you have your Daisy, we will laugh at this, Gatsby,” he told me.
