Page 20 of The Billionaires' Gamble
But we’ve already been over that. She didn’t take my words to heart the first time, so I let her rattle on.
“Since the auction didn’t provide any leads, and you won’t give Tyler a second chance, we should look at Preston Shaw orChase Barrett. Chase will be at the Gala on Friday. We’ll find you something suitable to wear this afternoon.”
Every word out of her mouth makes my stomach tighten. The son of a banker and the son of a hedge fund manager. Shocker.
“The trust doesn’t specify who I have to marry,” I point out, just to see what she says.
She nods. “Thank goodness for small favors. Knowing your grandfather, he would have picked someone twice your age.”
I don’t bother to point out that Chase is in his mid-thirties because I don’t have a problem with an age gap. But apparently, I have a big problem these days with boring conversations. How did I survive years of these without wanting to jump out a window?
I bet King would take me base jumping.
“Are you listening?” my mother asks, her tone sharp.
“Thinking,” I say.
“About Chase or Preston?”
I swear, if I didn’t wholeheartedly believe she just wants to keep the money in the family, I’d think my mother has a thing for younger guys. She talks about them enough. But it’s not just that she talks about them; it’s that she sort of croons their name like we’re in high school watching a varsity football team during warm-ups.
“Neither actually.”
“Why not?”
I pick up my fork again and poke at my salad, moving a bit of radish around the plate.
She doesn’t even hesitate. “What happened between you and Tyler?”
“He wasn’t that into me,” I say, watching her closely.
She wilts back against the chair, losing her perfect posture. It’s almost comical. Like I finally managed to steal some of the wind from her sails.
After she sulks for a second, she glares at me. “Please tell me you’re not waiting for some great love match.”
“I don’t think it’s a terrible idea.”
She rubs a finger between her brows and sighs. “Katherine, he comes from a good family. He’s smart, handsome, even-tempered. He’ll help you move up in the world.”
“I hate to break this to you, Mother, but Tyler is not even-tempered. He grabbed me at the auction. I’m surprised it didn’t leave a bruise.”
Her mouth opens, then closes. “Well, what did you do?”
There are two ways to take that question. What did I do to deserve being grabbed, or what did I do after he grabbed me? I would bet my life that she’s asking the former.
“I walked away.”
“No, I meant?—”
I hold up a hand.
“I know what you meant.”
My heart shatters. I guess until this moment, there was some tiny kernel of hope somewhere deep inside that she actually cared for me as her daughter. As a human. As something other than a pretty pawn she can move around her chessboard. But this isn’t how a mother treats a daughter.
If I found out a man grabbed my daughter, I’d be livid. Alex would break the guy’s hand, but he would have deserved it.
I take another sip of water because I’m suddenly parched. All this time, I assumed that my parents fell out of love, but now I can see that my mother never loved anyone but herself. Not my father. Not me. Not Ford. It was just her and her endless need for approval from her father.
