I was sitting down for breakfast when my dad brought it up.

“Arielle, about the jewelry you’ll be modeling for me this weekend…”

I wasn’t feeling generous right now. I’d spent last night recovering from my long night of passion with Alan, and I could stand to sit more comfortably at the dining table. But here my father was, ruining the tranquil atmosphere with something I didn’t want to hear.

I glared at him, but he ignored me, like it was just another one of my tantrums. I’d barely woken up, my hair was a mess, and I’d only stumbled down here because I was hungry. He could clearly see I wasn’t having a great morning, and yet…

“That reminds me, I don’t want to do it,” I said bluntly, reaching for a mug and the coffee. “You cornered me before, but I won’t let you do that again. The answer’s no. I won’t model for you.”

He was lifting his own mug to his mouth and froze at my words. His eyes met mine, and he slowly put the mug down.

“Arielle, this is an important event, and it might even be beneficial for you to be there. We’ve talked about this, I thought you already agreed.”

“We didn’t talk, Dad,” I said with a sigh. “You simply said what you wanted and assumed I would go along with it. I didn’t fight it then because I didn’t want to start an argument, but clearly you must want one.”

“But isn’t this just like any other party? You’ve gone to them before. Why are you so adamant about this one?”

Well, it wasn’t like I’d enjoyed any of the others parties either. It was rare I found any sort of enjoyment at an event organized by my father or others in his circle. Initially, yeah, I’d been interested to attend parties meant only for “grown-ups.” But after several years of attending the same drab parties over and over, I so done with all of it.

“I don’t like your parties, Dad, in case in case you never realized.” He probably hadn’t, with the way he kept insisting I go. Unless he was just doing it to mess with me, in which case he owed me an apology.

“But why not?” he asked.

I scoffed. There was no way he could have missed it, unless he was really that oblivious of his own daughter when he had people to impress. I hated thinking of my dad as a pompous ass, but he was sometimes. He could be so self-centered.

“Do I need to remind you that I’ve been groped by a dozen of your cigar-chomping associates, all because of the rocks and lumps of metal you keep making me wear?”

He flashed me an offended look. “Arielle, my jewelry is a lot more than just ‘rocks and lumps of metals.’ Do you know what those pieces cost?”

“Like I care what they cost,” I muttered. “They seem to be worth more to you than your own daughter.”

I looked at my mug, and the plate in front of me that I’d unconsciously filled with food as I talked. But suddenly, I didn’t feel like eating, not if I had to continue this conversation.

After a moment where he didn’t say anything, I picked up my mug and took a sip of my coffee. My stomach roiled in anxiety, because I knew, no matter what I said, Dad would insist I do what he wanted.

But I wasn’t going to give in so easily this time. I was fed up.

It wasn’t like he couldn’t find someone else to do it for him. I had plenty of family, most of whom wouldn’t mind getting flown in if it meant dressing pretty, socializing with the upper crust, and flaunting expensive jewelry. There was no reason it had to be me.

“Arielle.”

I looked up at him. “What?”

“You said you’ve been groped, and by some of my friends nonetheless. Do they actually do that?” He seemed confused, like he had no idea what I’d been through.

I bit my lip and glanced down at the table. Their actions were somewhat more innocent than the word “groped” implied, but it wasn’t just how they touched me. It was what they said, thinly veiled innuendo, and the way they looked at me that made my skin crawl. The boldest of them tried to put an arm around my waist. And then there was the one, bolder than all the rest, that I hated the most and thankfully saw the least. Gamble.

“Damn it, Arielle,” Dad murmured.

I looked up in surprise yet again, because I hadn’t known my dad to curse, especially around me. He appeared almost horrified, and I couldn’t imagine the things he was thinking about. It made me feel better, actually, since a part of me had started to think he really didn’t care what happened to me at all. But if he really hadn’t known…

“What are their names?”

“What?”

“Names, Arielle. If people are touching my daughter inappropriately, then I can’t sit idly by.” He turned away, and I followed his gaze to find Marc standing against the wall with a neutral expression. I could tell he was mad, though. “Marc—”

“Dad,” I cut in before he could say anything. “Look, it’s fine, you don’t need to sic Marc on anybody. I don’t even remember most of their names, just faces. I’d rather not go to the party and have the same thing happen again, is all, please.”

He still looked upset—hell, so did Marc—but he settled down. I thought I’d finally won, and he wouldn’t make me go. But then…

“How about this? I’ll give you a small yacht of your own and a guard for the night, along with your pick jewels to model. If you’re really that uncomfortable, I could ask someone else, but it’s so last minute, I doubt anyone will be available.”

I sighed heavily. Even with the compromise, I still didn’t want to go. But it was the most I’d gotten from my dad, so wouldn’t it be a waste not to take advantage of it when it was offered?

“Fine,” I agreed reluctantly. “But I swear, Dad, if anyone tries to touch me at all, I will leave that party.”

“That’s fine.”

Back in my room later, I called Alan. I could have called one of my friends, but though Alan and I hadn’t spent all that much time together, I was starting to feel close to him. I almost regretted not sneaking him into the house so he and I could have some fun last night.

“Can I talk to you?” I asked when he picked up.

“Of course, about anything. What’s up?”

I explained the issue with my dad. I hadn’t told him much about my family background, but it was probably time to come clean if I was going to be seeing him regularly. To my surprise, I felt okay with him knowing about my father now. It was so much easier than just not telling him.

“You should wear the most expensive thing in your father’s collection, just to make him nervous, keep him on edge, as a bit of revenge,” Alan suggested. “He’d let you wear it, wouldn’t he?”

I frowned. “Hmm, maybe. I’d have to ask to be sure, though.”

“I promise to sneak in to see you. That way you won’t be so bored.”

“What?” I choked in surprise. “You know it won’t be easy, right?”

It was one of those high-class parties where they had a lot of scrutiny on the guests, which had more to do with their bank statements than their backgrounds. They tended to be invitation only, and the invites weren’t easy to come by.

But Alan scoffed. “Have a little faith in me, would you? You’re not looking forward to it anyway, right?”

No, but I didn’t want to start something with my dad right in the middle of his party. He would be so mad, and I would have to deal with the consequences.

“But forget about that for now,” Alan added. “It’s three days until the party, right? I want to see you again.”