Chapter Thirteen
Dinner Tonight
Charlotte was still gritting her teeth as Jordan motioned her into the right seat at the dinner table. Next to the head of the table, which was almost certainly where his father would sit. Great. Jordan went around the table, straightening the silverware before sitting down next to her. She gave him a look but he didn’t notice, just sat down on the other side of her as Maria scurried in to pour water and wine for everyone. Was he fixing her table setting? She didn’t say anything. On a scale of one to Lauren, it didn’t even rank mentioning.
She couldn’t believe George Lovett told her it was unreasonable for a woman to have a career. But this was the way rich people thought. And Jordan didn’t say a word. He didn’t even bat an eye, clearly not the least bit phased by his father’s presumptions. They were all alike.
Well, she was being paid to be here. She just had to keep repeating that to herself. She picked up her red wine glass, large enough to hold half a bottle, although obviously, it wasn’t full. She’d love a wine glass this size to herself at home but this one was also unwieldy and the glass so thin, she was worried she might break it just by handling it. She carefully took a sip, paranoid she’d spill it all over herself, and held her tongue.
In the sitting room, she’d been looking forward to breaking up for dinner, where she wouldn’t be standing there as the center of attention. The meatballs in tomato and basil sauce (apparently called albondigas, they informed her as if she should know) smelled amazing.
She thought dinner would be blissfully quiet. She was wrong. Jordan’s father had clearly never heard of avoiding religion and politics as a dinner discussion and she regularly ended up shoving a forkful of meatballs in her mouth to suppress the instinct to argue. Even when the conversation shifted to Lovett Industries, it was no better. The man was as horrible as she thought he would be and his son was no better. Jordan probably knew all about the land lease—after all, his father was sitting there crowing about how much money he made in the company: annual profits this, return on investment that. She didn’t even understand half of it but she didn’t need to, to know it was all about how much money they’d made, as if nothing else mattered. She just knew George Lovett must have bragged at the dinner table about his million-dollar land deal and how he got the better of his partner. Jordan must know all about it, probably thought it was wonderful. Proof of their manly virility.
She felt sorry for Lauren. The way she hung on Jordan’s every word, as if she’d been starved for intelligent conversation. But then, she must have known what she was getting into. Jordan seemed to be saying Lauren was only marrying George for financial stability. Now she seemed shell-shocked, upon discovering how much she was expected to give up in order to have it.
Charlotte tuned back into the conversation to hear George rambling on about some sort of partnership Jordan had put into place and how little value the partners had.
She twisted her wrist to look at her tattoo and then took a long drink of wine. Why not speak up? “You don’t think there’s any value to working with a partner? Cooperation?”
She was sure she already knew his answer to this one but she wanted to hear it from him. Re-enforcement that she was doing the right thing, perhaps.
George was happy to oblige. “The word partner is meaningless; there’s simply no such thing,” he said. “Everyone is looking out for themselves. Everyone wants to get their own way all the time. And it’s not wrong: you can’t live in a constant state of compromise. It’s no different than a marriage.”
Charlotte sighed. Here they were again. But there was no stopping the man.
“Take my son, for example. What he needs is someone to look after the day-to-day. A bonus would be someone who could help to fulfill his goals through social connections—the Old Wives’ Club, we always called it. By hosting dinner parties and events, you create opportunities for him to entertain clients, and he can feel confident they will be treated well. They just want to feel important and it’s the wife who can make this work.” He gave her a stern look.
She frowned in response. Was she really not allowed to have conversation about anything but being the good little wife?
George reached over and patted her hand. “Don’t look so dismayed. It’s not very difficult. You seem eager to please and willing to learn.”
She took another gulp of her wine, just about cross-eyed in her desire not to say anything. She was never going to be that wife. George Lovett might believe that a woman should be ornamental and pleasant and... what did he say? Pliable? With every drink, she was more and more tempted to give him a piece of her mind. Inform him that in this day and age, women were quite capable of holding jobs and making their own way, both in the business world and personally. It just confirmed what she’d always believed: men were jerks. And she was never going to give up everything for some man. Charlotte couldn’t see any appeal in getting married and having a passel of brats to look after while her husband drank whiskey with the boys and went on business trips and expected the world to revolve around him.
“More wine, darling?” Jordan leaned towards her. She couldn’t help but feel his smile was patronizing. They were probably all used to keeping their women topped up with drink in order to keep them pliable.
Charlotte shook her head. She was already feeling dangerously aggressive.
But George just wouldn’t let up. “You look unhappy. You disagree? It’s ok, you can speak your mind here.”
It was being given permission that tipped her over the edge. How very dare he!
But she kept her cool. She didn’t speak her mind. She tried instead to channel what she thought her dad would say: always calm and collected and relaxed about discussions like this. “I just believe there’s value in cooperation and working with people. Friendship. Support. Loyalty.”
He glanced at Jordan and shook his head sadly. “You think by being nice to people, you can change the world? It’s naive.”
His words stung. She wanted to say she used to believe that, until people like him had proven it was just a way to get walked all over. But no. He clearly wanted to get a rise out of her and she was not going to let him. “I think it’s a challenging path,” she said. “It can be easier not to care.”
He snorted and shoveled a whole meatball into his mouth, speaking as he chewed. “It’s not about being easy or difficult. It’s about success. What are you caring about? Profits? Shareholders? The bottom line? Because that’s what matters. If you are worrying about whether Susie in accounting is fulfilled in her job, well, that’s just a waste of time and resources. Because even if Susie were ecstatic to come in every day and punch numbers, that’s not going to make your business a success. And this stupid money being spent on office childcare and free lunches...” He snorted. “It’s inefficient and pointless ego-smoothing. As a boss, you don’t want your staff to like you. You want them to get the job done. And if that means they are thrilled when it’s time to knock off at the end of the day, then that’s fine. Work isn’t supposed to be fun. And I don’t need friends. I need profits.”
Ain’t that the truth, thought Charlotte, but she kept her eyes firmly on her plate, afraid her thoughts might show on her face. He no longer seemed to expect a response, having made his point. Finally, he placed his silverware on the plate with a clang and Maria scurried in. She must have been waiting just around the corner. George stood: the meal was over. “Shall we retreat to the library?”
“I’m tired,” she said, giving Jordan a pleading look. “I think I’ll just head straight to bed if that’s alright with you?” George smiled at her words and she hated having to ask permission. If Jordan said no, she would kick him under the table.
He nodded. “Me too, actually. It’s been a long day.” He smiled at his father and his stepmother-to-be. “Good night.”
And with that, she was free. Wow, but she would be glad to get the hell out of here and back to her normal life. That was the only good thing about this weekend: she used to think her life was maybe a little bit lonely and a little bit dreary. But compared to life in this mansion, her world was positively paradise.