16. Lorde #2
I’ve heard tales of these conversations. Bartering. Making demands. Promising payment. Asserting oneself for the sake of a woman. For thousands of years, men have been proving themselves to their future fathers-in-law so they can have the women they love. Few made it.
Now, it’s a woman’s turn.
I’m too stubborn to know when to call it quits. Not that I’ll ever call it quits for Daisy. I’ll elope in Vegas with her before I’ll let her marry some twit like Cristiano.
Still, it feels so anachronistic. Why the hell am I having this discussion!
Marcello tears me apart regarding my heritage.
Not only is my father absent from the records, but my mother is some tawdry (award-winning, excuse me) actress who has shown her tits on the screen multiple times.
She posed in Playboy once. What kind of legacy would I be creating for my future children?
Nevertheless, I knew this was going to happen.
Everything I researched about this family told me that appearances, money, and heritage were everything.
So I’ve spent the past few days putting together a personal résumé of sorts.
All the reasons I would be a good match for Daisy DeMonte, heiress to one of the biggest shopping empires in America.
I came prepared.
I may not know anything about my father’s side of the family, but I can easily dig up my mother’s, thanks to detective work she had done years ago. I can also put a case forward for myself. You know, as someone who threatens the conservative appearance of the DeMonte’s?
They can’t be that conservative if Marcello is hearing me out.
He’s made it clear that he knows I’m a woman.
I don’t doubt for two seconds that he dreams of his daughter making babies with some guy of impeccable pedigree.
He’s an old-school Italian Catholic. He wants the big white dress for Daisy and the Italian tux for the well-bred man.
The guy who will, inevitably, be adopted into this family and inherit a department store empire during an age of online shopping and inflation.
“My great-grandfather on my mother’s side was Italian,” I point out, showing the genealogy report to Marcello. “Piero Russo, of Florence.”
He looks up from the paper with mild shock. “My ancestors are from Florence.”
Excellent!
“Russo… that’s a strong family name. Many brilliant Russos in Florence.” Marcello nods. “What else you got?”
Are we… are we doing this? We’re doing this!
Okay. Now that we’ve cleared I come from excellent Italian stock, there’s the matter of my funds.
I show him my portfolio and copies of my bank accounts.
Very sensitive information, but if you want to prove to a man that you can provide for his daughter, you bring the receipts.
Literally. My net worth is tens of millions of dollars.
I don’t want for anything. At the rate my investments are going (which have been going since my birth, thanks, Mom!) I’ll be set for life in five more years.
My mother is one of the wealthiest actresses in Hollywood.
I don’t have a lot yet. I can fix that. Gold, stocks, whatever.
I’ll do it all. Show me your financial planner, Marcello, and I’ll show that firm their next big customer.
Next, I talk about my future. Before Daisy, I didn’t have a career in mind.
Professional drifter, I guess. When you grow up as rich as I did, you don’t need career ambitions.
That’s not going to work for Marcello, though.
He wants someone he can train to inherit his company.
If Daisy will let me, I would like to inherit with her.
I would have to go back to school, though.
Lots of business classes are in my future.
I already have a pending acceptance letter from Harvard Business School.
What? You think I didn’t do well in school?
I partied and fooled around with a lot of women, but I did my damn work.
My mother would’ve killed me otherwise, and I can be a real baby when it comes to her being disappointed.
“I swear to you, Mr. DeMonte,” I conclude my spiel with.
“I will be the greatest spouse your daughter could have. I’ll work every day of my life to prove that to both of you.
I want to be with your daughter. I know she wants to be with me.
We may be young, and we don’t have to get married for a while yet but at least give us a chance.
Unlike others you may have thought of for the position,” I think of Cristiano, with his crazy family connections and self-interests, “I will be completely dedicated to your family and its preservation. I admire your legacy. I want to continue it and make it stronger.” Babies.
I want to have babies with your daughter one day, and it’s scaring the piss out of me!
“You’re right when you say I have no father.
I want to change that. I want to be such a great daughter-in-law that you don’t even think of me that way.
” I pause for effect. Here we go. “I’ll think of you as the father I always needed.
And I hope that you’ll see me as part of the family.
One you never knew how you lived without. ”
I can play his games. Who knows? Maybe I’ll be in his position one day.
Daisy and I could have some gorgeous daughters that tear up the world by storm.
They’ll have all the partiers coming to call, and no matter how well I think I’ve prepared them for dating, I’ll still worry for them.
Like Marcello worries for his young daughter right now.
He wants to know that I can provide for her. He wants to know that his family’s legacy won’t die with him. That I will respect and take care of his feisty girl until death do us part.
Something changes in his eyes. Gone is the stony facade he built up the moment I entered this room. I’ve touched a crucial part of his heart. His fears.
He looks up and gazes over my head.
“So, with your blessing, sir, I would like to be with your daughter. And your family.”
He smiles, wanly. “Why don’t you ask her about it yourself?”
I don’t have to ask. I’ve known she was there for at least five minutes. Standing silently, but resilient. That’s my girl.
Sure enough, I turn to see Daisy standing in front of the door, her mother a pace behind her. Her eyes are wild with confusion and fear. For me? For her? For all of us? Yeah.
“How much did you hear?” I ask her.
Those glassy eyes wipe the pout from her lips. Instead, they curve into a smile that matches her father’s. “Something about becoming my sister.” Her smile is cheekier.
I snatch the box off her father’s desk. “Before that?”
“Hmm…”
“Oh, I would love to see this,” Marcello grumbles. “Prove you mean it, Ms. Sheen. Go on. No future daughter of mine would be scared to do what you’re about to do.”
He’s right. No one in this family can be scared of anything, least of all professing eternal love to a woman one’s barely known for several weeks.
So here I go, standing up long enough to get down on one knee in front of Daisy.
I open the box. She gasps. Her mother has another one of her infamous strokes.
How do you pick the perfect ring for a woman whose tastes you’re still learning? I’m not gonna lie. It was impossible to the point I kept the receipt, in the hopes that the worst that would happen is an exchange for something more to her liking.
For the time being, I chose a simple silver band encrusted with three beautiful diamonds. Daisy wouldn’t want something that could easily snag on her outfits, but she’d still want something pretty that she could show off to the cameras, of course.
I wouldn’t expect – or want – less. My vivacious Daisy will look stunning in whatever engagement ring I buy her.
“Daisy DeMonte,” I say, trying not to tremble on this bended knee, “will you marry me?”
She’s frozen. Her face, her body, even her hair refuses to move. Mrs. DeMonte covers her mouth with her hands and starts to cry. Fuck, I wanna cry, too!
Me. Lorde Sheen. Proposing to the woman I insulted to hell and back not even two months ago. Me. Lorde Sheen. Proposing to any woman at all!
I don’t regret a single moment of it.
Especially when her frozen lips break out into a grin and she emphatically nods. “Yes,” she squeaks. Then, “Yes! Holy shit, yes!”
I leap up and hug her, my beautiful Daisy finally in my arms again. In front of her parents, even! Where are the paps now? They would eat this up.
Our celebrations are cut short when she breaks from my hold and says, “What about Cristiano…” she looks at her father, trepidation coloring her cheeks.
Marcello’s demeanor remains unchanged. “I’m sorry. Who?”
I think Daisy is going to pass out when her father gets up, rounds his desk… and smacks me right on the back.
“As long as you two don’t give me a reason to regret this, I’ll give you my blessing.” He looked between us. “No wedding until you’re both finished with schooling.”
Daisy’s eyebrows go up. “Both of us?”
“I’m, uh, kinda getting an MBA at Harvard.”
“What!”
“How lovely!” Mrs. DeMonte cries. “This is wonderful! Look how happy she is, Marcello.”
“Yes.” Finally, a real smile. “It’s good to see you so happy, Principessa.”
“That’s because I’ve found my princess.” Daisy wraps her arms around me and brings me down for a kiss.
No tongue in front of the parents, of course.
Yet I hope they can feel our passion all the same.
This is real. “The best one there is,” she mumbles on my lips.
I take her left hand and slip the dainty ring onto her daintier finger. Wow. This is happening.
Marcello’s chuckles quickly turn antagonistic.
“No sex before marriage,” he growls into the space between us. “I don’t care what gender you are, Ms. Sheen. We still have some decorum in this family.”
Yeah. We’ll see about that.
Mrs. DeMonte suggests we all have a big dinner together, but Daisy smartly says that would be better planned for tomorrow. Tonight, she and I should go out and celebrate our engagement. Alone.
Marcello still growls in my direction.
“Your daughter and her dignity are safe with me, sir,” I reassure him. Until we get back to my place, anyway. Then all bets are off. “Come on.” I take Daisy’s right hand. “Let’s go tell the world.”
“I’ve got some calls to make myself,” Marcello says with a sigh. “You two have fun, but not too much fun. Be back here by tomorrow night for dinner. There are people you need to meet.”
Wow. Wow .
Daisy leads me out of the office and down the empty hallway toward the front door of the grand DeMonte mansion. Her mirth is palpable, and I drench myself in it. Even when she turns around, making sure the coast is clear before she whispers into my ear, I’m losing it in serendipity.
“You’re taking me back to my place and fucking me until I can’t scream anymore.”
Um. Okay!
“Capiche?” She tugs on my hand. As we emerge from the front door and head toward the Alfa Romero, we come upon quite the… scene.
Paps. Six of them, leaping over the fence and making a mad dash while security chases after them. Petulant bugs, aren’t they? Daisy and I hurry to the car so we can make a break for it. Already the paps are firing shots at us in front of her family’s house.
Daisy hesitates outside the passenger side door. Before I know it, she’s flipping off the paps with a giant smile on her face. “Eat your hearts out, bastards!” she cries.
That’s when I realize it’s not her middle finger in the air. It’s her engagement ring she’s showing off. Guess she likes it, huh?