Vanessa
Y ou have got to be kidding me. Can this get any more boring?
I suppress a groan and as discreetly as I can rub a hand under my nose to hide a yawn.
My grandfather has arranged for me to go on a series of blind dates that he hand picked himself. All of the men he’s picked have had three things in common. They came from prominent families, had jobs they inherited from their parents and my personal favorite, misogynistic as fuck.
This guy I’m on a date with currently just reminded me of all three without even pausing to catch his breath. I don’t remember his name but he did make sure I understood that he was a third generation lawyer. That if we ended up married, I wouldn’t need to work anymore along with questioning my lack of skills in the kitchen. He looked flabbergasted at the idea of my inability to cook.
Peter? Paul? Philip? What the fuck is his name?
I want to atleast pretend I’m engaged in this conversation because if I know my grandfather at all, I know he has an ear on this date. Either from someone watching us right now or from hearing it from Patrick/Peter/Paul himself.
I take a sip of my wine because I unfortunately had no other option to give me something to do while my date drones on about a case he’s recently had a hand in winning for his firm.
God, I hate wine.
It always made my stomach hurt but Philip/Patrick/Peter ordered for us without even allowing me a second to look over the menu or consult me on preference.
I guess my grandfather either didn’t know about it or maybe just didn’t care enough to advise him of my IBS.
I’m going to pay for this later but I definitely can’t sit through another date like this sober.
Downing my wine, I resist the urge to tip the glass over my head.
I miss my friends.
Ava, most especially. I haven’t seen her since Uncle Luke, Ava’s dad, sent Ryder and I to London for Christmas so she wouldn’t be alone and that was half a year ago.
Heck, I even miss Ryder’s annoying lectures. I’d happily sit through them right now if it meant I didn’t have to go on another date like this.
But I’ve been avoiding them. I told them I was in San Diego for awhile because of Grandfather’s health condition but that was the extent of it.
Ryder has offered more than once to drive down here and keep me company knowing our relationship isn’t the best. He also understood how much Grandfather affected my mental health but I declined. The last thing I want is to have either one of my best friends swoop in to save me again because they will. They’ve both done so much for me already.
Ryder was Dean’s ex best friend but after he found out what Dean did to me, he protected me. He quit the basketball team and stopped being friends with the team. Besides Ava, he’s my fiercest protector. But I know he’s busy at work.
After Uncle Luke established TEG Models , they hired Ryder to oversee the agency’s media team and is the only photographer allowed in any of Reese’s campaigns and brand deal shoots. If I were to tell him about the will and what I’m doing in order to secure it, he would understandably freak out. I know nothing about my situation is ideal or conventional. If I had any other options, I would not even hesitate to throw the will at Grandfather’s face but this is my choice.
Ava, on the other hand… If she were to find out, I know she would not hesitate to help me out.
I couldn’t let that happen. The day I found out who she was, I promised her that we would always be best friends. That I would never use our friendship for personal gain like so many of her old friends have.
I also know if I refused her money, she would drop everything to be here. I could not in good conscience let her do that either. She has so much going on. With spearheading their European expansion to her eventual takeover, she already has enough on her plate without my shit overflowing it.
I’m so into my thoughts and Peter/Patrick.Paul still hasn’t stopped talking that this is obviously not a love match. All I can hope to take away from tonight is a free meal.
My last date refused to pay for the meal unless I went home with him. He was so outraged when I refused that he gave me an ultimatum on our first date, put out or he walks away.
When he continued to wait me out thinking I would budge, I merely stared at him because I am not the one. I may have let men walk all over me in the past and I may allow my grandfather to dictate my life but I am not a doormat. I refuse to be bullied by inferior men.
So I got up, paid for our meal and left.
My grandfather was pissed because the guy in question was the son of someone he knew from the country club. And I embarrassed him with my display of what he deemed as gratuitous feminism.
I sigh and that seems to finally get the attention of my date.
He flashes me an embarrassed smile and I wonder if I may have misjudged him. Maybe the overconfidence is because he’s actually nervous and he’s overcompensating by talking about… Law?
I didn’t hear a single thing he said.
He leans in his seat, swirls his wine before taking the tiniest of sips.
“I apologize, I got carried away. I forget that not everyone is versed when it comes to lawyer jargon especially someone who looks like you.”
He doesn’t even bother to pretend he’s not ogling me. His eyes dip down to my cleavage and he even goes as far as to lick his lips.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
He’s got an eyebrow hitched now and he winks. Winks!
I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes. What a poser.
Okay, I’m done.
There was no way in hell I can sit through another thirty minutes of this.
I paste a smile on my face and reach for my purse.
“This has been fun, uh–”
Shoot. I don’t know his name.
I’m trying to think about a nice way to blow him off without letting on that I do not in fact remember his name when thankfully the server chooses that time to venture back over to our table.
“Can I get you anything else?”
“The check, thanks.”
Except that didn’t come from me. It came from my date who now has a shit eating grin plastered across his face.
The server doesn’t even bat an eye towards me, he leaves just as quickly as he came, presumably to get the check.
“You’re a lot easier to manage than your grandfather alluded to.”
“ Excuse me ?”
He smirks, ignoring what I just said as he eyes my hand on my purse. “And eager.”
Wait .
I’m appalled at what he’s implying. At the same time incredibly frustrated that this has now happened to me twice in a week. Both with men, my grandfather personally chose. He’s bound to say something to Grandfather but I would be doing myself a disservice if I let this slide. Does this jerk actually think women like being spoken to this way?
I’m tired. I’m fed up. My grandfather can be mad all he wants but he isn’t doing me any favors with the men he’s chosen. If anything, he’s made certain that I spend
I push myself off my chair, digging into my bag for a few twenties I know I have hidden in case of emergencies. This was definitely one.
“Let’s get one thing straight. I don’t appreciate what you’re implying. I was being generous when I said this was fun.”
He opens his mouth to speak, his eyes darkening with anger but I raise my hand to stop him.
“I’m still speaking. You’ll have your turn.”
I round the table until I am standing directly beside him and smirk at his clenched fists and tense jaw.
“The last thing I am is easy or eager to do anything more than what I already have, which is enduring listening to you carry a conversation with yourself. It’s called simply being polite.” I throw the money on the table and shake my head in disbelief, “I’m now realizing that is a foreign concept to you.”
Suddenly, the unfairness of this whole situation registers and I don’t even bother to pretend at this point. I feel the smile slip off my face, replaced with what I’m assuming is a disgusted look because that is precisely how I feel.
“If you think choosing what I eat or drink before you’ve even gotten a chance to get to know me was somehow going to be charming, I’m here to tell you it is not. It simply showed me your true colors. Misogynistic and vapid.”
He’s sputtering now, his hand going to his tie as if to loosen it but I don’t wait around for his response. I already know Grandfather will have more than a few choice words about my behavior tonight and I can only take so much verbal abuse from men.
I shrug my coat off and double check the locks on my door before tossing my purse in the direction of the bed.
My grandfather had refused to let me stay in the house I grew up in eventhough it’s the same house he deemed me worthy enough to inherit in his will. So for the last few weeks, I’ve been staying at a hotel that’s within walking distance of his bar. He has me working there two days a week and since I still don’t have a car nor would he let me use one of his, this was the best option for my limited budget.
Kicking off my shoes, I take the pins out of my hair and breathe a sigh of relief that doesn’t last long because I’m not alone in my hotel room. I spot a figure sitting on my bed, in the darkened room watching me and then he moves.
I become petrified with fear and a soundless scream comes out of my mouth just as a hand goes to cover it, pulling me deeper into the room and away from the door.