Page 55 of Old Money

“Wear it,” I whisper as I step closer to her. “Please. Please keep it on.”

Her eyes scan mine for more of an explanation, but I don’t give one, and bless her soul, she doesn’t ask. I kiss her one more time before I take her hand, just as Connie rushes us out the wing and toward the main house.

For the most part, the night goes off without a hitch. A few of my relatives are here, but it’s mostly filled with Angelina’s “friends,” my father’s many, many business associates, and a few celebrities. While most people would gawk, Sawyer just takes it all in stride, not stumbling once on any introduction. I catch the eyes on us all night, but no one asks, and luckily enough, there is a strict agenda, complete with a video montage, a live band playing a song for Angelina and my father to dance to, and a call-in video chat with the Prince of Norway, wishing her a happy birthday.

Just as the cake is being cut, I pull Sawyer to the back of the banquet hall at a cocktail table. She’s sipping on the same glass of wine I got her an hour ago, and I’m finishing off my last beer of the evening.

I’m about to suggest that we sneak away when I hear his booming voice.

Fuck.

“And how are we faring tonight, Sawyer?” my father asks as he approaches us, flanked by four or five men who have been working for our family since my grandfather took over. Men who my family has made richer than Midas over the years. Men who have sold their souls to the devil.

“Faring just fine, Cato, thank you,” she says, holding her glass up. “This has been an amazing party.”

He laughs heartily as he puts his glass down on our table.

“This here is Sawyer, boys,” he says with a head nod in her direction. “Julian surprised us with her just today. They’ve apparently been dating.”

There are some “hmms” and “ahhs” coming from the men around us, and I instinctively move closer to her. I keep my eye on him, trying to figure out what angle he’s going for.

“She’s a student,” Cato goes on, and I see his eyes narrow in on her, locked in an accusatory gaze. “Like father, like son, eh, boys?” He looks around at them, and they all bust into a fit of fake laughter. “So what does that make you, Sawyer? Twenty-one, twenty-two?”

“Twenty-two,” she says, her eyes narrowed back on him.

“So much life yet still to live,” he says, his voice growing a little more serious. “And to think, yourboyfriendhere…he’s lived quite a life. We all have. And you’re just starting out. Probably not even sure what you really want out of life. Julian here, though…I’m sure he could help with that. When you’re a struggling college student, a billionaire boyfriend is probably nice to have, eh?”

God dammit, Cato.

The men chuckle behind him, but he doesn’t laugh. He just stays locked on her as I start to see red.

“Cato—” I start, but she puts her hand to my chest, stopping me. She keeps the same smile on her face as she sets her glass down.

“It’s so interesting, though, when you really think about it. Here I am, what, forty, fifty years younger than you, Cato? I have no ‘wealth.’ I own nothing. No property, no assets. And yet, I have still lived so many experiences in my simple, short little life that you never have, nor ever will.”

I look at her, fighting a smile. Then my eyes find my father’s. I want to tackle him to the ground in front of all his friends. But my girl doesn’t need me to.

“Oh?” he says, his voice getting a bit more stiff as he sets his glass down. “And what, pray tell, experience do you have that you think I so desperately need, my dear?” he asks, condescension dripping from his lips. But that perfect little smile just stays on her lips.

“Well, for starters, have you ever worked for someone other than your father, Cato? Or yourself? Has a company that wasn’t owned by your family’s estate ever employed you? Have you ever relied on grants, scholarships, multiple jobs to pay the bills? Have you everpaida bill, or do you have someone who does that for you?” She pauses for a moment, and an awkward but beautiful silence shrouds us. She chuckles to herself. “Imagine that. Poor, simple, broke college student from Seattle…more worldly than the richest man on the planet. Excuse me.”

She turns on her heel and rushes past us, and I turn to my father.

“You tried, just like we all knew you would. But you won’t mess this up for me, Dad. And you can’t beat her with your little mind games. Careful, your insecurity is showing.”

And then I follow her out of the room. I see the train of her gown dragging around the corridor, and I jog to catch up. She’s running toward the side door, but I catch her just in time. I spin her around, but she won’t look up at me. I cup her face and tilt her eyes up to mine.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have?—”

“I love you,” I say. Her eyes widen, tears still pricking the corners. Her lips part as she stares up at me. “Can I take you somewhere?”

She nods slowly.

“Shouldn’t we…shouldn’t I probably leave?”

I laugh.

“Oh, we’re leaving the party. Just not leaving the property.”

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