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“You’re looking very sad today, Fina,” she says when we sit down together for brunch. “Are you not excited about the gala?”
“Not really,” I sigh.
I really want to tell Luana the truth—to tell her everything and ask her for advice—but she’s too close to my father. It would be a mistake. Besides, I don’t know if I could trust relationship advice from someone who’s purposely chosen to date my asshole father.
“Is it because of yourpapai?” she asks cautiously. “You two are going to make up tonight, yes?”
“We’ll see,” I mutter.
Making up with my father is never as simple as just talking it out. He’s so manipulative and power-mad that everything with him needs to be a game, or a fight, or a manoeuvre. That’s why I was forced to do what I’ve done.
Noah doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve to be dragged into this stupid skirmish. To be used like a pawn in a chess game with a maniac.
I’m mad at my father because I shouldn’t have to involve some innocent person in something so ugly just so I can follow my dream. But more than anything, I realise, I’m mad at myself.
For being just as horrible as my father. For using people around me just to get something I want.
“I just don’t want to become like him,” I admit to Luana. “I want to become my own person, live my own life.”
“I know,miga,” she says, reaching across the table to take my hand. Around us, the hotel restaurant is quiet, the music stifled by the soft white carpets, the bleak daylight softened by the bronze lampshades. “Just say that to your father—he will understand.”
“You know he won’t. He wants me to do what he wants—healwayswants to have his way. I’m so sick of it, Lu! Have I not done everything he wanted so far?”
Luana’s hazel eyes are sad as she listens to me. She would help me if she could, I know that. But she’s as stuck as I am, and now I’m just making her sad for no reason. I tuck my hair behind my ears and shake my head, forcing a smile.
“I’m sorry, Lu, I didn’t mean to bring the mood down. I’ve missed you, you know.”
“I’ve missed you too,” she says, squeezing my hand. “You look more beautiful every time I see you.”
“Thanks.” I give an airy laugh. “You always know how to cheer me up.”
“Yes,” she says, raising a finger. “Champagne, compliments, and massages. It’s the Fina cocktail!”
We spend the rest of our morning talking about other things. I do my best to enjoy all the things I love: the beautiful hotel, the luxurious spa, the treatments, the expensive champagne. But a bitter taste remains in my mouth.
It’s the bitter taste that’s left behind every time I remember I’m about to betray Noah.
Glowingandperfumedfromthe spa, I return to my room and check my phone to find a text waiting for me.
Noah: Can’t wait to see you tonight, princess x
My heart sinks. I drop into the velvet armchair next to the enormous bouquet of lilies. The luxury of my hotel room only makes me think of Noah’s flat, the unadorned walls, the threadbare carpet. One night in this hotel room probably costs more than his rent.
A reminder that we live worlds apart. A reminder that this could never work.
I glance down at my phone, my stomach in knots. It’s such a sweet message—sweet and honest, just like him. What should I reply?
If I replied with the truth, I’d have to say that I can’t wait to see him either. That I want to see his face and kiss his mouth and let him hold me in his big arms and make me feel safe.
But the truth is also that I’m going to bring him in front of a crowd of predators who’ll sniff out his poverty like sharks smelling blood. And then I’m going to bring him right in front of the biggest predator of all, the ugliest shark—my father, Robert Rosenthal.
And I’m going to use him as bait to get what I want.
And if I get what I want, I’ll be sending him home on his own. Throwing him away like an empty wrapper once I’m done using him.
There’s no way I can justify it to myself. What Ishoulddo is not what Iwantto do. What Ishoulddo is not something I think Icando. I should just admit the truth, tell him not to come, tell him it’s just a trap. But I can’t bring myself to do it. It all comes down to what I value more: my trust fund or Noah’s feelings. My plan or my principles.
Money or love.
