“Are you ready, honey?”

My mother fusses over my hair and my outfit. I frown at the ground, trying not to think too much about what I’m going to do.

Just stand there and smile, I think to myself. I can do that, it’s not so hard.

“She’s on in a minute,” a man holding a clipboard says to my mother.

“You look great,” mother says to me, fussing again with renewed energy. “Remember, it doesn’t matter how much they pay for you. I just want you to get out there. Besides, Milo plans on winning.”

I have to force myself not to groan. Milo Fitzwilliam is a favorite of my mother and father. He’s the son and heir to the Fitzwilliam fortune, one of the most powerful families in the whole city. My family is up there, and they’ve been trying to arrange something with the Fitzwilliam family for a long time.

I’m supposed to be that something. I’m a bargaining chip to my parents. My mother is fussing and being kind right now, but only because she’s worried that I’m going to embarrass her out on that stage.

It doesn’t matter. I’m used to that sort of thing. My parents are constantly acting like I’m a failure and an embarrassment all because I don’t love horseback riding and I haven’t locked down a rich man yet. They’re excited that Milo is interested, but they’re afraid he’s our last chance.

They don’t ask me what I want, of course. That doesn’t matter. I’m a Tillman daughter, and that means I’ll do my duty for the family and marry a good rich boy. That’s just what I was born for and what I’m expected to do.

I didn’t get to go to college. I went to an elite prep school, of course, since my parents wouldn’t dream of sending me anywhere else. But while most of my other classmates got to go off to universities and colleges, I was forced to stay home with my family. My place isn’t at a university, my mother said, but marrying an eligible man. He can worry about taking care of me.

Sometimes, I dream about leaving. I dream about running away from my multi-story apartment and living in some tiny shack out in the woods. I’d learn to cook and clean and grow things. It’s a childish dream, I know, and it’ll never happen. But it just speaks toward how much I want to get away from my family and become my own person.

“You can do this,” my mother says to me as the man with the clipboard motions for me to follow him. “Don’t embarrass me.”

Her final words ring in my ears as I’m ushered away from her. Of course that’s all she cares about, not how I feel. I was never asked if I wanted to be auctioned off like some whore or piece of cattle. I was never asked if I wanted to go on a date with a random rich man. My parents felt this was a good thing for me to do, and so I’m doing it.

The stage is brightly lit and I can barely see out into the crowd. The applause is loud and I’m nervous as I step onto the little taped mark where I’m supposed to stand. I don’t know what to do with my arms, and so I wave a little bit, smiling nervously.

The bidding begins, and people are actually putting up money. I didn’t expect that. I never fit in with the other ultra wealthy and privileged girls. I tried to make friends at school, but I couldn’t care less about the trivial things that they were interested in. I don’t like riding horses and I have no interest in endlessly discussing boys and how much their families are worth. I like to read and paint, but nobody ever asked me about that. I have friends, of course, but nobody that close, and anyway they’re all gone off to college now.

I look out into the crowd, and suddenly I spot Milo. He’s sitting toward the front, grinning at me, as he raises his paddle to bid. I keep smiling, feeling mortified and embarrassed out on the stage. I hate being looked at like I’m just a thing to be bought and sold, but I can’t do anything about it. I can’t embarrass my family by backing out now.

Milo bids again and suddenly I’m struck by the intense desire to run. I don’t want to go out on a date with him. He’s close to my father and brothers, and he’s always around the house. He’s short, barely a couple inches taller than me, with thinning hair and this goofy smile. My mother once said he looks like his family, inbred and without manners. I hate the tone of that joke, but there’s some truth to it.

Milo bids again, a pretty large amount, and I feel intense dread deep inside of me. I expect him to win, when suddenly someone else bids, someone in the back.

I strain to see, but the lights are too bright. I can’t spot him. But I do see Milo’s face and he’s angry.

They get into a bidding war. I can’t believe the numbers they’re throwing out, and Milo is getting more and more angry. It gets all the way up to one hundred thousand dollars, more than anyone else has gone for, and I can see that Milo’s anger is shifting into shock.

I nearly faint when the man in the back bids half a million dollars. Milo’s expression is absolutely priceless, though, and I already know my parents are furious. The hostess counts down, and the strange man wins. I try to catch another glimpse of him, but I can’t see, and the room falls into an uproar of excitement. I’m ushered off the stage, and into the warm embrace of my family.

Except there’s nothing warm about my mother.

“That bastard,” she says, furious. “Who does he think he is?”

“Low class,” my brother Michael says. He’s my eldest brother and we’re not close.

“Poor Milo,” my mother says. “He really wanted to win. Did you see him bidding, Sadie? Milo has his eye on you. I think you should be proud.”

“Sure,” I say to her.

“Half a million though, sis. That’s pretty fucking good.” Peter grins at me. He’s only two years older than me.

I laugh and shrug. “I guess I’m worth it.”

“Yeah, right.” He makes a face. “You’re two hundred thousand, at best.”

“Cut it out, you two,” my mother snaps, and Peter grins at me.

He’s the only person in my family that I actually like. He’s not quite a black sheep, not like I am at least, but he doesn’t buy into their ultra rich and conservative attitude. He likes to laugh and have fun and enjoy life much more than my very stuck-up and conservative father and mother do.

“Who was he, anyway?” Michael asks.

“I couldn’t see,” I admit.

“I didn’t catch it, either,” my mother says. “Hold on, let me find Belinda. She’ll know. Maybe we can somehow fix this.” My mother storms off, leaving me with my brothers. My father is somewhere in the dining hall, no doubt shaking hands and making business connections.

Michael frowns at me for a moment. “You should stand up straight,” he says, before turning away and looking at his phone.

I sigh and Peter makes a face, mocking our older brother. I can’t help but laugh.

“You did good up there,” he says.

“Really?” I ask him. “I felt like I was going to puke.”

He shakes his head. “Seriously. The other girls all looked like frightened deer. You just looked like a nervous deer.”

“Perfect. That’s what I was going for.”

“Come on,” Peter says. “Let’s catch a glimpse of your suitor.”

I follow him around the corner, leaving Michael to himself. We step through a door and head into the main ballroom. It’s crowded as servers carry dinner plates to each guest. There’s probably half the net worth of America in this room right now, which strikes me as absurd and silly. It’s a bunch of white, old, privileged men, hoarding their money, and only giving some to charity in exchange for buying a young woman’s attention for a night. It’s crass and lewd and I hate it all over again.

Peter grabs a drink off a passing tray and winks at me. We walk along the edge of the room, looking at the guests.

“There’s your boyfriend,” Peter says, nodding. I follow his gaze and spot Milo chatting with a group of men.

“Come on,” I say, hurrying away.

Peter laughs. “Don’t want to see him?”

“I’m afraid he’ll propose.”

“I wouldn’t blame him. Poor guy. Looked like he might puke when he lost.”

I can’t help but smile at that. “There’s mom,” I say, pointing. She’s walking quickly toward the back of the ballroom, heading right toward Belinda Stitcher, the woman who headed up this whole thing.

Belinda is standing with a man that I’ve never seen before. He’s wearing a tuxedo, like everyone else in this place, so he must belong here. But he’s younger than most of the men, maybe in his late thirties at most.

And he’s handsome, incredibly handsome. He has striking blue eyes and close-cropped brown hair, a bit longer on top, combed back. His jaw is square and there’s a bit of stubble on his chin, like he couldn’t be bothered to shave for this event. He nods at Belinda and walks away quickly before my mother arrives.

I only get a glimpse of him, but I’m fascinated. I’ve never seen a man like him before at an event like this. He looked rugged, handsome, not at all like the stuck-up and stodgy old men that typically come to a charity event.

“Who was that?” I ask Peter.

He shrugs. “Who knows? Probably a waiter.”

I smile half-heartedly at his joke. Even Peter can be stuck-up sometimes.

We watch as mother accosts Belinda. They speak for a moment, and suddenly mother steps back, her eyes wide. And then the conversation begins again, this time with a renewed frenzy. Mother looks angry and Belinda a little overwhelmed.

“What’s that all about?” Peter asks me.

“I’m assuming she doesn’t approve of my future date,” I say.

“Of course she doesn’t.” Peter gives me a look. “Unless he’s old money and powerful, Regina Tillman does not give a shit about him.”

I laugh softly. Mother breaks away from Belinda, looking angry. I’ve seen that look before, and I don’t like it at all.

Peter waves at her, and she spots him, sighing to herself. She walks over to the pair of us, glancing around like she’s afraid that someone will notice something is wrong.

“Well, mother?” Peter asks her.

“Don’t be rude, Peter,” Mother says, though her heart isn’t into it. She looks at me, a frown on her face.

“What?” I ask her.

“I found out who your date is, and you simply aren’t going.”

I pause for a second and it hits me.

My date has to be that man.

“Who is it?” I ask her, my heart beating fast.

“It doesn’t matter. You’ll go with Milo and that’s that.”

“Mother,” I say softly. “Tell me.”

She looks a little surprised. I don’t often stand up to her. Which is probably why she actually listens for once.

“His name is Gavin Waller, and he’s not appropriate, not appropriate at all.”

I don’t recognize the name, but Peter laughs out loud. “Waller! He’s that young guy, made a mint selling guns to the military before making even more on the stock market.”

“It wasn’t guns,” my mother says. “He sold flooring laminates.”

“Boring. I prefer the guns,” Peter says.

“Was that him?” I ask my mother. “Talking to Belinda just a second ago.”

She pauses and nods. “That was him. And Sadie, he isn’t appropriate for you. No, not at all. We’ll go with Milo.”

“He won me,” I say loudly with more force than intended.

It surprises me almost as much as it surprises Peter and my mother. They both stare at me like I’ve gone insane.

My mother snaps out of it quicker than Peter. “Sadie, what did you just say?”

“He won me,” I repeat, a little softer. “And he bid a lot of money. The hospital needs that money. I’m going on that date.”

She stares, shocked. “You absolutely are not.”

Peter laughs and grins at my mother. “She has a point, mom. That was a lot of money. If she backs out, imagine how it’ll look?”

Peter nudges me, and I understand where he’s going with this. “We’ll look stingy,” I say. “Like we don’t care about sick children. It’ll be a scandal.”

The dreaded “s” word brings my mother up short. She chews her lower lip for a moment, thinking. “We can’t afford to appear like we hate sick children,” she says slowly.

“Mother, Sadie simply must go,” Peter says.

“He’s right. I have to go. It’s my duty.”

Mother agrees, nodding. We just played on all her weaknesses. Image, duty, and the fear of scandals are all serious motivating forces for our mother.

“Very well. We’ll figure it out.” She looks away. “Come on. Let’s go join your father.”

Peter grins at me and I feel a thrill run through me. I don’t get my way very often in this family, and it feels good to finally stand up for something.

Even if that something is a strange man who I’ve never met before.

I float through the rest of the evening, acting like the upper class woman that I’m supposed to be, but inside I’m thinking about things that would make my parents disown me.

The truth is, I have very little experience with men. All through school, I had only two serious boyfriends, and we never slept together. We fooled around, of course, but they were too afraid of who my parents were to really push further. They were nervous boys, and my relationships with them never lasted long.

That’s my deepest, most secret, hidden shame: I’m a virgin. I’m twenty years old and I’ve never had sex. So many of my peers were having sex all the time, but I just never did. And now I’m stuck at home, barely seeing anyone my own age, and I’m frustrated as all hell.

Now suddenly, this handsome stranger walks into my life. He’s not a nervous boy, not at all. He’s an actual man, an older man, and he clearly has experience. I’d be lying if I tried to say that wasn’t part of why I want to go out with him.

I want to see what it’s like to be with a real man. I want to live a little bit, experience the real world.

And this man might be able to give me that experience. He’s definitely handsome enough to make my stomach turn. Plus, my mother doesn’t approve, and that only makes it so much better.

I don’t know what’s going to happen with this date. It’ll probably be chaperoned and boring, but I don’t care. I’ll be doing something my mother doesn’t want me to do, and I’ll be doing it with a handsome older man. Maybe he’ll be totally unlike all of the other rich assholes I meet in my life. Maybe I’ll actually like him.

I can’t stop thinking about that glimpse I got of my future date, and I can’t wait to actually go out with him.