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It’s beautiful out there. Green and maintained and lush. Beautiful the way the inside of the house is beautiful. Grand and a little intimidating. It’s the kind of house I would preside over if I made a society marriage to someone like Langley.
Her tone is conciliatory. “There’s security for a woman in marriage.”
“And give up my freedom?”
“My relationship with your father is complicated. It doesn’t have to be that way for you. The man I just introduced you to is a good man. You can trust him.”
“I can’t trust anyone,” I say flatly. Because I can’t. Security? Acceptance in society? That’s not what you get when you go with a man. That’s not what you bet on. Ever.
My mother studies me, looking bemused. We’re close as far as mothers and daughters go, but I’ve never told her why I don’t trust men. And I won’t be telling her tonight.
The door to the sitting room opens.
A man stands there in a tux that speaks of wealth and a bearing that says his family has had it for generations. Privilege. Power. And enough self-awareness to make it feel like an inside joke that you’re part of. Phineas Hughes was a few years behind me when I came up in society. We’ve met. And everyone knows about them. The Hughes family is like the Kennedys or the Vanderbilts—steeped in luxury. Though we’ve never spoken for very long.
Blonde hair gleams beneath the low lighting.
Hazel eyes twinkle with roguish charm.
“Finn Hughes,” my mother exclaims, her cheeks pinkening, her eyes going bright.
She lifts her glass just a little, and I wish I had a Diet Coke instead of the spritzer. I feel my own cheeks heating, but I don’t flutter my eyelashes like my mother does. I don’t act surprised to see him, even though I have no idea what he’s doing here.
“Mrs. Morelli,” Finn says with a playful bow. He doesn’t need to be handsome or well-built. Not when he’s the oldest son of one of the most powerful families in the country. He’s painfully rich, but that doesn’t stop him from also being charming. It’s honestly annoying.
“I told you to call me Sarah,” my mother scolds, flirting with a man half her age.
“Mrs. Morelli,” he says, refusing her with so much grace and respect that she can’t be offended. “It’s always a pleasure to see you again. I came looking for your daughter.”
Excitement rushes through me like champagne, like caffeine. Me?
“Sophia’s not here,” my mother says.
She assumes a playboy like Finn Hughes, a man who could have whoever he wants, would want Sophia. She’s the wild child. The one who could have adventures with him. And suddenly I feel old at the ripe old age of thirty-three. I don’t go to exclusive night clubs. I don’t get into trouble, if I can help it.
Instead I help my mother plan her events and help my siblings manage their lives. I help and help and help, and it never seemed quite so depressing until this moment.
My stomach sinks.
“I want Eva,” he says, glancing at me. That devilish glint in his eyes promises mischief. And maybe even danger. It promises something entirely different than help. “We have plans.”
He’s lying, of course.
Though I don’t know why.
Maybe he just wants to save me from this awkward conversation. Or maybe he really does need help—perhaps the lack of champagne has finally created chaos.
Sophia would be right for Finn. That’s assuming he’s ever looking to settle down, which I doubt. Wealthy. Handsome. And far too charming. Why would such a man choose marriage? My mother was right about one thing. Marriage does have more benefits for the woman.
Men can do whatever they want.
Women like me? We have a ticking clock. There’s only so long that I’ll stay attractive to men like Langley. Only so long that I can have children. My heart squeezes thinking of all the years I’ve spent being helpful. Thinking of all the years I’ve spent trying to make sure that my family had what they needed. Paying attention to everything and everyone. Except myself.
And now it might be too late.
Chapter Two
Finn
