Page 22 of Love and Other Champagne Problems

At the moment I’d kissed Sumner, Aaron hadn’t been on my mind. Right? Had the subconscious thought of him that spurred me to action? I resented how she could wheedle my thoughts out of me. She’d barely tried, too. She’d been in the room not even for five minutes, and already could see right through me.

“Itisan arcane thing to do,” I said before I could think better of it. “Marrying your child off for the sake of your business flourishing.”

“Arcane.” She gave a little scoff, pacing her way closer. “Who got that idea in your head? Destelle? Marriage itself is a contract. Do you knowstatistically how many marriages based on love fail, Margot? Many. Most. Any life-altering decision based on emotion isn’t going to end well. That’s just common sense.”

She made it sound as if I had a lover that I intended to run off with. I didn’t. And it wasn’t as if Iwantedto marry for love. At twenty-two, I just didn’t know if I wanted to get married to begin with. Not right now, especially not to a stranger, not even if he was the son of a goldmine.

“Mr. and Mrs. Holland’s marriage was based on mutual beneficiation, not love.”

“Yes, and they both cheat on each other every chance they get.”

“It’s not cheating. It’s their agreement.” She gave a sigh, one that indicated her decaying patience. “You know my relationship with your father is the same, in a sense. Not founded on love, but because we were a good match. Could keep up with each other. You’ve always known that. We’ve never raised you on fairytales and love stories, so I don’t know why you’re acting so childish like this.”

Yes, I’d always grown-up thinking love to be ridiculous. I’d never had crushes on people, never found myself googly-eyed over a celebrity. I couldn’t even picture myself with a partner, lying next to them at night. Even when I tried, the visual was empty, nonexistent. So now, I didn’t have a concrete answer for my mother. It was just as if something unknown grabbed my shoulders and held me in place.

You cannot do this, it said.This is something you cannot do.

“You live a beautiful life, Margot Massey. You’d really give it up?” My mother’s hand suddenly reached out andsnatched my chin, jerking my head to the side. I hadn’t even realized she’d gotten close enough to touch me, and her grip was a painful pinch, forcing my stare to hold hers. “Your entire wardrobe, gone,” she threatened, those blue eyes snapping fire. It was almost a comforting sight, despite her grip on my face. It was one I was used to. “Your penthouse suite, gone. Your sportscar, gone. Your inheritance, your fortune. We have given you a luxurious life, and I will not hesitate to take it back if you won’t appreciate it.”

My parents’ relationship held no love, and neither did their relationship with me. I wasn’t sure if it was because I’d been sent away so young, but we never bonded in the way a family should bond. My parents never saw me as their loved daughter; they saw me as their business asset.

It was times like this, with her threatening everything I’d ever known, that I felt small. Young. Sixteen instead of twenty-two, a child instead of an adult.

“Appreciate it by getting married to whomever you wish.” It was hard to speak with my jaw held captive. “That’s what you mean.”

“You understand me, then.” My mother dropped my chin just as quickly as she’d grabbed it. “You’re in a wonderful position, Margot. You truly are. One of the Astor sons is interested in you—I don’t see why you’re fighting it so much.”

“AndIdon’t see how you don’t find his obsession with me creepy.” I returned my gaze out the window, fighting the urge to rub my chin. “I’ve never met the man, and yet he’s wanting to marry me?”

“I’ve met him,” she reminded me. “Hecame up to me at the Christmas party.Iknow his intentions. And it’s perfect. The hard part of catching his attention has already been done for you. You don’t have to worry about wooing him.” She stared at me, but I refused to look over. “You can do this for your father and me. And you will.”

Her unyielding tone reminded me of the day my dreams shattered. My senior year, my parents had allowed me to apply to any fashion institutes and colleges I wanted, as long as I also applied to a few universities on their list. Looking back, that should’ve been a sign. I’d gotten accepted into most of the fashion schools I applied for, with the portfolio I’d built over the four years of high school, but when it was time to pay tuition, that was the first time my parents took the choice out of my hands.

Instead of fashion school, they paid for my tuition at their alma mater for a business program.

It had been like someone had shaken me awake, the peaceful life I’d been living vanishing into the icy grip of reality. I could do nothing without my parents’ money—couldn’t live on my own, couldn’t attend the school I chose, couldn’t chase the dreams I wanted—and never again would they let me forget it.

My mother began toward the door. A sudden tightness seized my chest at the fact that she walked away from me, a buzzing, ridiculous desperation to make her stay. “I want to speak to him first,” I called after her. “Before I meet Aaron for the first time at Annalise’s wedding, I want to speak to him first. If you want me to be cooperative, you could arrange that at the very least.”

It was a suffocating thought, meeting Aaron for the first time surrounded bythe eyes of the elite. Our every move measured, scrutinized.He can do so much better, they’d think; they’d say. It was bad enough to go through it, but worse to add them to it.

“You’ll have to arrange it with your father,” my mother said, and if I hadn’t been looking, I wouldn’t have noticed the way her shoulders fell in relief.Finally, I could see her thinking.My robot is functioning as she should. With the details finalized, she left my bedroom.

I was sure my skin was red from her grip, and I sat while the stinging pain receded. The settee wasn’t even comfortable; I didn’t know why I still sat in it. They couldn’t have invested in higher quality furniture for a penthouse? Much of my life seemed consistent with that train of thought.I don’t like it; why am I doing it?

The answer, as always, was a simple one: It wasn’t as if I had anything else to do anymore. I had no possessions that didn’t belong to my parents. I no longer had hopes and dreams that weren’t created by my parents. My life had always been a calculated one, fully planned and no room for deviation, but they’d allowed me the first few years to taste freedom. It was a mercy of theirs. Now, they had a use for me.

I pushed to my feet and made my way back to my bedroom, continuing into my closet. It was the size of a small bathroom, rows of suits on hangers, beautiful at first sight. I’d bought my first suit at thirteen, and since then, I’d spent years collecting them. Gilfman, Malstoni, Beaumont Couture, Hefman & Italia—brands I’d never have been able to consider without my parents’ credit card. Without them, I’d never have been able to express myself the way I did. I traced my fingertipsover the fabrics, the satin and the cotton, letting it bolster me.

My mother, so confused as to why I acted out, wasn’t alone in that bewilderment. I didn’t understand it either. I didn’t know why I instinctively tried to move puzzle pieces into spots they didn’t fit in.

I knew one thing for certain, though, over the past three years—fighting it got me nowhere. I might as well just give in.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Ididn’t have a great relationship with my father. He’d always been the absent type, catering more to his clients and business partners than his family. That was what a wife was for, after all. And, in my mother’s opinion, that was what boarding school and nannies were for. My relationship dynamics with my parents had been doomed from the moment of conception.

Or, really, doomed the moment they found out I’d be a girl.

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