I touch up my lipstick in the mirror of my bedroom at my parents’ house, staring at my reflection. I’m wearing a gorgeous baby pink minidress, accented with a diamond necklace and earrings. My hair is in a braided updo, with a couple of pieces of hair strategically left hanging down in the front.

All that I’d need to add is a tiara, and I would be a perfect princess…

I sigh. My parents would love it if I dated someone who was royalty. They would rub it in the faces of their society friends at every opportunity.

That’s the way the Alderisis were. They had raised me and Asher to be their prize jewels, and they were not above using pressure if they really needed us to shine.

Of course, Asher stopped accepting their money and their weird rich people guilt trips a long time ago. If only I could do the same… but I can’t, at least until law school is over.

If Asher were here, he would make a joke about how dressed up I was. He’d make me laugh, at least.

Too bad Asher is kind of on my list of least favorite humans right now. Well, that and there’s the fact that he wouldn’t be caught dead celebrating my parents tonight.

There’s a knock on my door, and my mom opens it. The sound of voices and piano music reach my ears; the party must have started.

“Are you ready, Emmaline?”

I turn and look at my mother, who is wearing a silver sequined gown. She’s also absolutely dripping with diamonds. I force a smile at her and grab my clutch.

“I am. Happy anniversary, by the way.”

My mother bows her head for a moment, her version of accepting the compliment. “Come, your father is waiting.”

I leave behind my bedroom, still as pink and pristine as ever, and walk down the hall with my mother. The sounds of talking and the clattering of glassware grow louder as we approach the main staircase.

I let my mother go first, placing my left hand on the bannister, my heels clicking against the marble underfoot. We smoothly descend the stairs in perfectly synchronized movements, a lifetime of practice in plain view for everyone to see.

As we reach the bottom of the stairs, they open up into a sort of rotunda, which feeds into what my mother calls the entertaining floor. A game room, a huge dining room, a living room type area with big verandah doors thrown wide open. There is even a kitchen tucked away in the back, to prepare food for parties like this one.

The fact that my parents even have a floor just for entertaining guests is beyond snooty. I repress a sigh, preparing myself for a whole night of talking to people who take my parents’ wealth in stride.

“Leslie, there you are!” a woman in a red evening dress says. “Oh, you had little Emma come home from college! That’s wonderful.”

“Karen,” my mother says, greeting her with a nod.

I slip on my mask, smiling benevolently. My mother greets Karen, and Karen gives me a quick peck on the cheek.

“Karen, I have to settle my daughter in for moment.” My mother’s gaze flicks to me. “She’s hardly ever at home. Isn’t that right, Emmaline?”

I smile. “It is.”

“Come find me after that,” Karen says. She leans in conspiratorially. “You won’t believe what I heard about Megan Denning. D-I-V-O-R-C-E.”

My mother inclines her head and leads me onward. We walk down a walkway that divides the game room and dining room, and head into the living room. There are tons of brown leather couches artfully arranged here and there, with cream shag rugs and a small library against one wall.

My father is there, leaning on the library ladder, a beautiful leather-bound volume in one hand. He’s taller than most of the men who are circled around him, listening to him… well, he’s orating, if I were to be honest.

Standing in a circle in their tuxes, they resemble nothing so much as a bunch of confused penguins. I stifle a grin.

I notice that the men he has chosen to surround himself with are much younger, the sons of oil executives and foreign shipping barons. My eyes narrow; Alan Alderisi normally wouldn’t have anything to do with a bunch of young guys like this.

Before I can put two and two together, my mother calls to my father. “Alan, dear, look who has finally come down!”

Eight sets of eyes turn to me. Suddenly, I’m in a spotlight of my parents’ creation. I want to turn and run, but my mother’s hand lands on my forearm. Her grip is as firm as steel.

“Emma,” my father says, urging me to step forward. “I was just telling some of your contemporaries here a story about when I was their age. Come, come meet the gentlemen…”

I have never felt like such a piece of meat as I do now, with seven strange men staring at me, expectation evident in their eyes. I move forward into the opening of the circle, trying to keep a smile on my face. I am red as a beet, I’m sure of it.

“Hi,” I say, folding my hands together. “Nice to meet you all, I’m sure.”

They introduce themselves, their names going right over my head. The final guy is a tall, lanky blond in an expensive-looking tuxedo. He elbows aside the suitors on either side of himself, eager to make an impression. I look at him, all swagger and no actual grit, and I instantly dislike him.

He grabs my hand, pressing it in his clammy grip. “Emma, I’m Rich. May I just say how beautiful you are?”

I want to rip my hand back, but I don’t. Instead I just give him a vague smile and incline my head. It’s a page straight out of my mother’s playbook.

Rich seems unaware of how weird it is. Not that I really want to talk to any of them, but what about the six guys left staring at me? He pulls my hand into the crook of his arm, turning his back on the whole group. “I think we should take a walk.”

I turn too, in an effort not to let him crush my hand. I throw an alarmed look over my shoulder to my father, but he’s already wandered off.

“If you don’t mind—” I start.

“Come on, let’s go outside,” Rich says, undeterred. I’m honestly not sure whether my reaction even registers with him. “Your father says you’re in law school. That must be difficult.”

“Uhhh… yes?” is all I can come up with.

He steers me out of the living room, past the broad terrace doors, and down the brick steps toward the expansive gardens. The sun is still out, which is the only reason why I’m even letting this happen.

When the sun goes down, I had damn well better be back inside. I scowl, but Rich is so self-involved that he doesn’t even notice.

“I thought about going to law school, but I decided to get my MBA instead. I went to Wharton, of course. And Harvard before that…”

He launches into his entire life history, really taking the time to explain his pedigree to me. His story is long, winding, and dead boring. I lose interest in it pretty quickly. I focus on the flowers in bloom as we walk along the garden path.

As we walk, Rich gesticulates to emphasize what he is saying. His hand catches my eye, and I realize that he has a manicure. And not a subtle one, either… he actually has a coat of clear polish on his nails.

While I try not to judge, that detail emphasizes to me how ridiculous letting my parents set me up is. Asher and Jameson would hate Rich for being so foppish, that’s for sure.

If I’m honest, this is all starting to feel very much like a long lost plot arc of Pride and Prejudice. I imagine myself dressed in period costume, walking in the gardens with one of my many suitors. Yeah, it’s a little too much like real life for my tastes.

“So what about you?” Rich asks.

Oh, he’s asking me a question. I flush, because I have not been paying enough attention to answer.

“Er… what do you mean?” I ask.

He looks down his nose at me, squeezing my arm pityingly. “I mean, you’re a dazzling girl. But I want to know all of your schools, your history, etc. You can’t hope to just get a husband by merit of your parents name, I would think.”

I arch my brows. “I wasn’t aware that I was trying to get a husband.”

He rolls his eyes at me. “We’re all looking to partner up. I just want to make the best possible match for myself, which is why I ask about your background.”

Stopping short, I pull my arm from his grip. I raise my hand, shading my eyes from the sun. “I’m not really worried about your wants and needs, honestly. I’m here because my parents want me to be at their party.”

“Yeah, but—” he starts to explain.

“Yeah, no,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m going back to the house now.”

I turn and start to walk back. He catches up to my in two long strides.

“Wait, wait,” he says. “This isn’t going how I planned at all.”

“Oh?” I keep walking, refusing to slow down.

“I just… I think you’re very beautiful—”

“That is not a good reason to try to date someone,” I say.

“Well, you’re also smart, and you come from the right sort of family—”

I stop short again, whirling to face him. He sees the irate look on my face, and backs up a couple of inches.

“You don’t know anything about me, other than who my father is. You’re jumping ahead to whether or not you and I fit into your compatibility matrix before you even know anything about me!”

“I’m just being practical,” Rich defends. “I don’t want to waste my time, or yours.”

“This is why I don’t let my parents set me up,” I say, throwing my hands up. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to go for a walk. Alone.”

He looks nonplussed, but I don’t really care. I’m pissed at my parents, pissed at this whole elite little world that they’ve created for me. It’s enraging, being stuck in the hamster wheel that they invented.

I veer off the path, heading toward the guest house. I need to cool down a little bit, without being bombarded by my mother or any of the would-be suitors.

The path grows more lush as I continue on, verdant trees cropping up as I reach the edge of our property. Though I’m headed for the guest house, I slow as I approach my favorite spot in the gardens.

A little clearing leads up to the oldest oak tree on the property. It’s massive, its branches spanning out at least ten feet on each side. In front of the trees, there is a little concrete bench. Nothing fancy, just a good spot for contemplation.

I walk to the bench and sit down with a sigh. This bench has seen a lot, and the tree has seen even more in its life.

I start thinking of Asher and Jameson, of how long their friendship has been. It’s almost noble, Jameson giving up whatever could have been between us to avoid hurting Asher. I mean, it still sucks, but it’s almost understandable.

I lapse into daydreaming, the party a mere echo in the far distance.