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“Good.” He nods, standing up and doing the button on his tuxedo jacket up. “Let’s go.”
He walks past me where I’m standing in the middle of his dark office, not even bothering to comment on the dress that he made me wear.
I hate going to these stuffy functions, hate having to have my makeup minimal but enough to gain people’s attention, “future husbands” attention.
Dean appears in the doorway when my father has walked out, giving me a sad smile and holding his arm out to me.
“You ready, Kitty?”
I blow out a breath at the sound of his voice and that name coming from his lips. He’s the only one who uses that nickname instead of Katherine, and for some reason, when he calls me that, I feel like I’m home.
This mansion that I’ve lived in all of my life has never felt that way. Even though there’s always people here, running around either
doing what my father has told them to, or waiting hand and foot on my mother, it always feels empty.
“Yeah.” I smile, stepping toward Dean and putting my hand in the crook of his elbow.
Dean’s been my personal bodyguard for nearly six years now, since I was twelve and he was twenty-one, fresh out of the army after doing several tours. Right from day one we got along and although he’s here to protect me, he also lets me vent to him without going and telling my father.
It’s sad, but he’s the only friend I have.
We walk outside to the huge driveway, complete with obnoxious fountain and a ridiculous amount of cars. The only thing I love about this house are the gardens where Fred, our groundskeeper, let’s me help tend to them. I’ve done it since I was a little girl and I’ve learned so much about plants and trees from Fred, all of which I have documented in my various notebooks that I keep for future reference.
Dean holds the door open to the limo that my parents are waiting in, my mother not even acknowledging my presence in favor of the glass of champagne that she’s drinking as I get in.
I’m used to it but it still stings that she can’t even say hello to me. I can’t remember the last time she even spoke to me.
“Colleges have gotten back to me, you’ll be going to Harvard,” my father says as we pull out onto the road.
My head whips around to my father where he sits typing away on his phone.
“What?” I ask, my voice small.
He looks up, frowning when he sees my face. “Could you not have done something with your hair?”
“My hair?”
“Christopher will never be interested in having you by his side as his wife if you can’t even pull yourself together.”
“Christopher?”
“I’ve spent the best part of six months trying to arrange this meeting and selling you to him, don’t mess this up now.”
“Mess it up?”
My mind is a blurry mess, I can’t keep up with what he’s saying. College, Christopher, wife. I don’t want to go to college; I want to do what makes me happy, and designing gardens and working with beautiful flowers is what makes me happy.
“Are you just going to repeat everything I say?” He tuts and murmurs, “Useless child.”
My back straightens and I look at Dean where he sits in the front with the driver. The small shake of his head tells me to leave it, so I do. I close my eyes, take a deep breath and then look down at my lap.
We pull up to the lavish hotel where the function is being held, my mother and father getting out first and then walking past all the waiting paparazzi.
“Come on, Kitty,” Dean says, poking his head in the open door. “Let’s get this over with then you can stay at mine so you can watch a chick flick and eat ice cream.”
“Ben and Jerry’s?” I ask, hopeful. The only food that’s kept in our house is the healthy stuff. I mean, what teenage girl wants to eat lettuce for breakfast, lunch, and dinner?
“You know it.” He smirks, holding his tattooed hand out to me.
