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Blanca pauses mid-pour. “Listen, Elle, I know this is going to sound crazy, but Ariella’s story gave me an idea.”
My brows rise.
“Hear me out.” She holds both hands up as if she’s at gunpoint. “Have you ever considered lowering your standards? Not forever, but for now--to have some fun, shake things up.”
I hadn’t. I definitely hadn’t. In fact, the suggestion that I lower them was absolutely insane, considering the quality of men I’ve been dealing with.
“You think my standards are too high?” I choke out. “I can’t even get a good guy with my high standards. What makes you think lowering them will help?”
“I don’t know.” Blanca shrugs. “The definition of crazy is doing something over and over again and expecting different results, right? Maybe you need something different… something unexpected. And, like, I know you’re trying, but… for as many dates as you go on… how many do you turn down?”
As if on cue, my phone buzzes again. She has a point. The answer is: too many to count.
“I still don’t see how lowering my standards is going to help,” I grumble.
“Okay, maybe not lowering them per se,” she concedes, “maybe you could just… try a different type of man. Have you ever considered the guys you date might be intimidated by you? I mean, hell, how could they not be? You’re in your late twenties and have your shit together better than a forty-five-year-old man. A lot of men have serious insecurity issues these days.”
I contemplate her words. Was that the problem? Were they intimidated? It made sense. And if they weren’t intimidated by my success, they definitely were when they found out who my father is.
I look around the bar. It’s a higher-end establishment, mostly late-twenties to mid-thirties corporate climbers, silver-spooners, not quite grown up and ready to settle down, and the artsy-elite. Exactly the types I’d been paired up with by my dating app.
We come here because it’s within walking distance of our condo building but it’s not the only bar on the street.
“You use a matchmaking app, right? So, according to the algorithm, you must have something in common with every match they send you, right?”
“I guess,” I admit grudgingly, not liking where this is headed.
Blanca hits the table, making my glass jump and causing sticky margarita to slop over the top.
“Oops.” She sheepishly wipes the spill with a napkin. “Sorry ‘bout that, but I just got super excited.”
“Oh?” I ask cautiously, not really sure I want to know why. Blanca’s been my best friend for ages, and I love her dearly, but her great ideas? Historically, they tend to get me in all sorts of trouble.
“Down your drink,” she orders. “We are going out tonight.”
“Blanc, we are out and we still have half a pitcher of margaritas.”
She laughs. “You know what I mean. And we can afford to waste it.”
Rising and grabbing her Kate Spade, she tugs me up. “Let’s go. We’re going to take off these work clothes and put on some sexy tight jeans. Tomorrow we can go back to our Girl Boss lifestyles, and you can go back to your app and its stuffy matches. Tonight, we’re going to have some fun with a different type of man.”
“And what kind of man is that?” I ask, rising to follow her.
She tosses her hair back. “The kind your senator father wouldn’t approve of.”
CHAPTER 2
Danon
I tug at my bowtie and let it hang loose around my neck. If I have to suffer through another charity dinner this week, rubbing elbows with the political leaders of this country, I’m eating my tie.
I’m done.
Except I’m not done. I can never be done. Because this is my future.
I look up at my mother, on the phone with room service, and shove a hand through my hair, messing its slicked-back style. I wait until she hangs up the phone to speak.
“I’m going out. I need some air. Don’t wait up.” My parents' suite is connected to mine by two solid doors, which are currently open. I clench my jaw as my mother follows me through the doors.
