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I’m two glasses of wine in when Giselle gives me a sympathetic smile over the dinner table. My mother is not so subtly making the case for why the wealthy need to protect their interests with donations to conservative PACs and candidates.
“Will you just stop?” I finally say, glaring at her.
“Stop what?” she asks, her tone offended.
“Tonight, you’re at dinner at your daughter’s boyfriend’s house,” I say, exasperated. “That’s it. Don’t ask him for money or anything else. It’s embarrassing.”
My mom gives my dad a horrified look. “Why is she always accusing me of having ulterior motives?”
“Because you always do?” I respond.
She gives me a stern look. “Your father and I have a right to know where the man in your life stands politically.”
“No, you don’t. We love each other. That should be enough.”
My father gives me his condescending if only you understood how the world works look.
“We only want what’s best for you Daphne. And I assume Olivier is politically conservative, given his wealth. But if not, we need to know sooner rather than later. My team can start working on damage control now, rather than when the news hits.”
“I’m an independent,” Olivier says. “And I’m very much in love with your daughter and hoping to have a good relationship with your family. But if you want to know what my values are, they’re the same as Daphne’s. I’ve learned a lot from her about how giving to the less fortunate can change the world for the better. The things that matter to her also matter to me now.”
Tears well in my eyes as I look at him, grateful. It’s not just gratitude for what he said, but for the way he stood up to my parents.
“You’ve got my vote, Frenchman,” Grandma Jo says.
Olivier smiles and says, “Thanks.”
Then he does the impossible and defuses the tension in the room, asking, “Does anyone want to join me for a Blaze game Saturday night? The owner’s box has a great view of the ice.”
“I will,” Grandma Jo says. “And I won’t say no to a private tour of the locker room after the game, either. Preferably right as the players are getting out of the shower.”
Laughing, Giselle says, “If Grandma Jo is in, I’m in, too.”
“Mom?” I ask, trying to make peace.
She looks at my father, who nods. My mom turns to Olivier with an expression I’ve never seen on her face before—resignation.
“We’d love to go,” she says stiffly. “Thank you for the invitation.”
I meet Olivier’s gaze across the table and he winks. Apparently, I underestimated him. He handled my parents better than I ever have. Aiden always rolled over and gave my mother anything she wanted.
Olivier is a real man, though. And there’s nothing sexier. Instead of telling him, though, I plan to show him—as soon as we’re alone in bed tonight.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Daphne
“Grandma Jo, what do you think?” Giselle asks, biting her lip nervously.
I shoot my grandma a look, silently begging her not to make a comment about Giselle’s dress as being scandalously cut or, as she once said when she saw one of my prom dresses, fit for a prostitute.
Giselle needs to have her confidence built up, not torn down. She was so excited about Grandma Jo coming with us to New York to shop for a dress for the spring dance, and I want it to be a positive experience.
“I think you look lovely,” Grandma Jo says.
Giselle beams, studying her reflection in the dressing room’s floor length mirror. She’s wearing an off the shoulder blue dress that’s fitted in the bodice and has a flowing skirt. This is the fifth dress she’s tried on, and so far, it’s my favorite.
“Daphne, do you think I should get this one?” she asks me.
“I think it’s a great contender, but you should try a few more on to be sure.”
Olivier is seated nearby in a leather chair, wearing his reading glasses while looking at his phone. He looks up and gives me a puzzled glance.
“More?” he asks.
“Yes, more.”
“But that one looks great. They all did.”
I give him a pointed look. “We came all the way here, so we’re going to make the most of it.”
“Okay, Daph. I suppose you know more about dress shopping than I do,” he says, turning back to his phone.
“I brought a few more options,” the sales associate at the dress shop says, walking into the large fitting room area.
She hangs about ten more dresses on the rack and I take one off and give it to Giselle. When she goes back to the changing area, I walk over to stand by Olivier and he surprises me by using his good arm to pull me onto his lap.
“Hey,” I say, laughing.
He kisses me and says, “Hey.”
“How are you?”
“Better now that you’re closer,” he murmurs.
“What are you reading?”
“A contract for work.”
