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What if Maribel was right, and he thought I was worth surrendering his inheritance, his social standing, and his relationship with his father? Maybe this was the beginning of something.
Something big.
Or maybe this was all heading for disaster.
These thoughts whirled through my mind while heat swirled in my belly, and Camden drew his knuckle down my temple. “What’s going on in there?”
I threw him a raised eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve got your deep contemplation face on.”
“I’m—” A laugh rose as I realized what I was actually doing. “I’m mulling over the concept of existential entrapment and its role in the dichotomy of desire versus action.”
“Wow.” He pulled his hand back. “Deep thoughts for a Sunday drive.”
I smiled, focusing on the empty road ahead. “For example, a man imprisoned by familial obligations and expectations surely has a distinct divergence of his actions from his desires. Yes?”
A silence stretched before he finally said, “Yes. I imagine the prison might dictate his actions far more than his desires would.”
My hands on the wheel grew tight, knuckles whitening. “So I wonder, then, what would cause such a man—still imprisoned—to oscillate instead toward his desires.”
“Perhaps he’s grown tired of his prison.”
“But it’s still a prison.” I glanced at his face. “How does he escape?”
He looked at me meaningfully, brow raised. “Maybe a beautiful liberator appears.”
I nodded, my lips pursed. “I imagine this liberator would come with a price.”
“Freedom has no calculable value, Shay. There isn’t a price too high.”
A shaky breath escaped my lungs. “In theory.”
“Theories are made to be tested.”
“Yeah? How would you test this one?”
His fingers trailed over the blush on my cheek. “Let me take you to the gala. As my date.”
My palms around the wheel grew clammy. “Your father won’t like that.”
“I don’t care.”
My foot released the gas, and I turned to look at him while we slowed. “You don’t?”
“Isn’t that the theory you’re actually wanting to test? Whether my father’s approval will dictate my actions for the rest of my life? Whether I’m willing to defy him to get what I want?”
“I—” I swallowed. The car stopped in the middle of the road, and we stared at each other. Unprepared for this conversation, I searched desperately for a way out of it. “I was speaking theoretically.”
He nodded, disbelief written across his face. “Well, theoretically, I need a date to the gala, and truthfully, I’d be honored if you’d attend as said date, and while practically, we’ll be sitting at my parents’ table, I genuinely lend zero credence to what my dad thinks about the woman I choose to date.”
My mouth fell open.
He chuckled. “Speechless?”
“That—that was—”
“Great?”
