Page 192 of Hate Mates

“You’re kidding.”

“He must be trying to impress a girl.”

“Lucky girl.”

They didn’t bother muting their musings about the man with unlimited resources and openly gawked. Mr. Cavendish didn’t seem bothered by it. It was impossible to touch a man like him. With his type of wealth, he had no connection with the rest of us except for our shared mortality, and even that seemed uncertain. He could have anything and anyone that caught his eye, and real life was impervious to him.

Being rich was one thing, but this level of abundance seemed almost divine. What would life be like if I could also drop a hundred thousand dollars on a meal?

As an office manager, a hundred thousand dollars was two years’ salary. One hundred thousand dollars meant a new car, a vacation, a savings account, and endless possibilities for someone like me. Yet, he was spending it so casually you would think it was the price of coffee. What kind of person could make something so extraordinary seem insignificant?

For once, I didn’t have to speculate from the crowd, wondering about someone like him from afar. I was invited into the inner circle of royalty. It was a good thing, too, because I was hypnotized by his life.

Nonetheless, I didn’t harbor resentment; I was too awestruck to be bitter. Mostly, I wanted Amelie and I to be a part of this lifestyle.

He finally glanced in our direction, and his one look pulled us toward him without him uttering a word or motioning for us to come forward. He looked magnificent with a grin so wide itseemed he had a thousand teeth. Dexterous fingers lifted with poise as he waved at us.

I must have conjured this fantasy to belong in the elite club. Even as we edged to the spiral staircase and the velvety ropes separating the god from the mortals, I had to pinch myself to believe this was real.

A nudge of his head and the security lifted the ropes to let us enter. As we took the stairs, we continued to hear wild theories about Mr. Cavendish. He was larger-than-life, and there was no escaping such a presence. Every table at the restaurant was talking about him.

“I saw him getting out of a Rolls-Royce La Rose Noire Droptail.”

“I didn’t even think they made those cars anymore.”

“Do you think he’s in the mafia?”

“No way.”

“It must be something criminal. How else does he have this kind of money?”

I wanted to come to Mr. Cavendish’s defense for some reason. One glance at him, and you would know he wasn’t in the mafia, nor was he a criminal. A man like him couldn’t be anything but well-bred from birth, and I couldn't resist being pulled in.

But the closer I got to him, the more I felt exposed. Though I had chided my siblings for not dressing the part, my best attempt at dressing up—an old suit with a white button-down—also paled against his custom black suit.

I glanced slyly at Amelie. She was from an affluent family and carried herself like someone with years of refinement. Her family went bankrupt after her father’s untimely death. All that was left from her previous life was a closet full of designer labels. It pained me how long she had gone without an upgrade and how many items in her closet had to be mended to withstandthe years of wear and tear. But she managed to put together something decent for a fancy night out.

I couldn’t say the same for myself and wondered whether I had embarrassed her with my cheap outfit. Even the waiters and managers in tuxes were dressed better than me.

I felt increasingly self-conscious as we came face to face with the man who was larger-than-life. He excluded a powerful presence that sucked up all the space in the room.

The Prince of Darster greeted us. “We meet again, Stefan DuBois,” he said, extending his hand.

Was this something rich people did, greet you by your first and last names because it sounded sophisticated?

“Mr. Cavendish,” I greeted, trying to keep my awe at bay as I shook his hand.

“Please, call me Kai.”

I nodded. “This is my sister, Bella.” I held back the six-year-old as she tried leaping toward Kai, then nodded at the twins circling my legs. “And my brothers, Noah and August. Today is their birthday.” Hence, our eagerness to accept this dinner invitation.

Yesterday, Amelie spent hours making paper crowns and baking a cake for the twins. But they were disappointed to learn we couldn’t afford a party. They asked if we could go out for dinner. Amelie took one look at our bank account and had to nix that idea, too. That was when Kai ascended from the heavens and offered to treat us to a luxury restaurant.

“Happy birthday, young men,” Kai said politely to the twins.

“Thank you,” they sang in unison.

“How old are you today?”

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