We had nothing in common. Nothing.
I knew that. We lived less than fifteen minutes away from each other, but our lives didn’t connect at all. Plus, I was insulted.
“Forty-five thirty Flagler,” I told the driver after I closed the car door. I knew the app would tell him the destination, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to say something and set the driver on his way. As the car pulled away from the curb, I forced myself to not look back. I couldn’t take one more glance at this man, a person who had tipped my world off its axis in just a few short days.
When I arrived at my apartment, I stripped off my skirt and sweater, then threw them in the hamper in the corner of my bedroom. I stopped at my open closet door and found the designer dress he’d given me, hanging on the rod next to the few formal clothes that I owned. I fingered the silky material and thought about the night he’d given it to me, the first time it had really come into focus, how expensive and interesting Luke Rothschild’s life was. Even then, he’d been buying my time.
Right? I’d made a good decision, right? Saying no to him made sense, right?
If I wanted to be honest with myself, I couldn’t be sure.
A Few Days Later
“What’s on your mind, son?” My father adjusted his bowtie in the hall mirror just outside the room where I stayed whenever I visited him in New York. “You’ve been quiet ever since you got here.”
“Just thinking about a few things,” I said as I joined him in the hallway. “Business.”
He braced his hand on the wall. “You? Business? Hardly. What you do in Palm Beach isn’t business. It’s playtime.”
I offered a dry laugh. “Like you would know.”
“I do.” He eyed me. “You know how I feel about the trajectory of your life. The sooner you get in line, the better.”
“And you’ve said that a thousand times.”
“Doesn’t change the fact that it’s the truth.”
“I’ve had a rough few years, Dad.” I sighed. “You know that.”
“I do.” He clapped a hand on my shoulder. “And I sympathize, I promise. I know you took Faye’s death hard. That you were shattered. We all were, and it was a tragedy. We all mourned her. We still do.”
I searched his eyes for something that resembled genuine concern and empathy. When I wasn’t sure I found it, I didn’t give him a reply.
“I know your time in Palm Beach has been therapeutic. You’ve spent time working on yourself and donated to causes that mean a lot to you. I know that you’ve needed this. It’s helped you process what happened with her death.” He tightened his hand. “But…you can’t keep wallowing in it, and your life in Florida only keeps you doing that.”
“I happen to like my life in Florida.”
Dad set his mouth into a hard line. “I have plans for this company. Plans for you.”
“I know. And I think—”
“You haven’t wanted to be a Rothschild for years, have you son? You’d walk away from this if you could, wouldn’t you?”
“No, that’s where you’re wrong.” I swallowed, willing some saliva to return to my mouth, which suddenly felt very dry. “I want to rejoin the company, and take my place at your side, but I want to do it on my terms. How it makes sense for me. I won’t do it according to your plan.” Our gazes locked. “That’s what you’ve never understood, Dad. You don’t control me. I’m not one of your assets.”
“Whatever you say, son.” He pulled his hand off my shoulder, a signal that this conversation had ended. “Come on. The car is waiting, and Lenora is already downstairs. You know how Lenora is.”
I gave up fighting and followed his lead. He was a man focused on one singular thing that night: making an impression. Anniversaries like this didn’t come around often, and he’d wanted to make a statement about Rothschild International Acquisitions. A big statement.
We could have celebrated in the ballroom at Rothschild Plaza, but he’d nixed the idea in favor of the best ballroom at New York Athletic, a private club full of old-money, New York somebodies. He wanted to remind everyone in subtle and not-so-subtle ways that we, the Rothschilds, had access and power that most people in New York could only dream about. To help in this mission, he’d hired the best caterer in town, given Lenora a $45,000 budget for flowers, and contracted Jean Guillermo, an event designer, whose credentials included New York Fashion Week, to design tablescapes and room décor destined for their own Town and Country spreads. The three of us made an entrance just after eight as a band from Los Angeles played 80s favorites, a throwback to the founding year of his company.
“Your father has really done it,” Lenora whispered to me as she took a glass of champagne off a tray carried by a passing waiter. “We’ve done it. Top of Page Six tomorrow. Easily.”
I raised my glass to hers. “You should be proud. The flowers are exquisite.”
Lenora blushed. “You really think so?”
“Yes,” I said, knowing a singular truth about my father—he didn’t hand out many compliments. Lenora needed to hear that she’d accomplished her main task. She had good taste, and it showed. “Dad should be pleased. Anyone would be.”
A long time ago, I’d resigned myself to a few facts about Dad and the women in his life. He loved women, and the younger the better. Somehow, he thought this made him appear more youthful, even though no one would have mistaken him for a young man. The divorce between him and my mother during my sophomore year at Harvard had been hell. A deep freeze set in between us, something that grew worse when Mom died of breast cancer five years later. I’d blamed him for the unhappiness that settled around her once their ugly separation became public. His second wife hadn’t been someone I’d bothered getting to know. Veronica stayed away from me, but remained married to him just long enough to bear my half-brother, Marcus. We’d never gotten along.
But Lenora was different. Time had passed—a lot of it. And I didn’t have the energy to take my frustrations out on my father’s wives any more. Besides, she probably wouldn’t be around long enough to make it worth my time.
“Stop it, Luke.” Lenora laughed in between champagne sips. “I know you don’t know the difference between tulips and peonies.”
“You’re right, I don’t. But it does look wonderful. Everyone in the city will be talking about this tomorrow.” I drank some champagne. “You should be happy. More than happy.”
“But you aren’t, are you?” She glanced at the other partygoers, many of which seemed focused on filling up the large dance floor in the center of the room. “Of course, I don’t want to bring up something like this in the middle of party—”
“No one’s paying attention.”
“Probably not.” Leona stepped closer to me. “You know, in the last few weeks, maybe even months now, your father has become transfixed on the succession of the company. It’s all he talks about. All he thinks about.”
“I’m not surprised.” I took a salmon-and-caviar-covered crostino from another passing tray. It tasted like smoked salt and I put it down on the cocktail table beside us after one bite. “When Dad focuses in on something, he doesn’t let it go.”
“Of course, he’s told me about how he wants you to figure into all of this.”
I nodded.
“And for the life of me, I just can’t figure you out, Luke.” Lenora tilted her head. “He’s not asking much, just for you to settle down, to find someone.”
“The right someone. Just like he did three times.”
Lenora blanched, and I immediately regretted my words.
“I didn’t mean that.”
“No, you did.” She put her half-empty champagne flute next to my half-eaten appetizer. “You meant every word, and I get it. I know what’s said about me behind my back. I’m your father’s third wife. Respect from you isn’t something that I expect.” She crossed her arms, and it made her cleavage line deepen against the clingy fabric of her lace-covered evening gown. “You can take my advice or leave it. But that’s a lot of money on the table, and he’s been waiting for years to give it to you. He just wants one thing.”
“Assurance that he’ll see the Rothschild family live on, so that he can step down from it with confidence.”
“That takes a family.” Lenora put her hand on my arm. “And you’re almost forty.”
“I’m not yet thirty-five.”
She shrugged. “You know how your father is.”
I laughed. I did know how he was. He had never hidden that.
“It’s a little ironic to be lectured on this by someone who’s three years younger than me.”
“Hey, I’m just sick of hearing about it.” Lenora raised both hands. “I’d do anything for a little piece and quiet.”
“Natalie, are you still in the practice room?” Helen called from the studio lobby. “Can I come in?”
“Yes,” I said as I rolled up my yoga mat. The last student in my Saturday flow class had just left, and soon, we’d close the studio for the evening. “What’s up?”
“Oh, nothing.” Helen had a large grin on her face when she walked through the doorway. “Just wondering what you’re doing tonight.”
I shrugged. “Not a lot.”
Truth told, I hadn’t been doing much of anything for the last few days besides going to work, running a few miles every night in the neighborhood that surrounded the apartment complex, and binge-watching trash TV.
And thinking about Luke.
“I don’t have a lot of plans.”
“Which means you’re going to spend the whole night on the couch watching on-demand movies and eating popcorn.”
“Sounds like a good idea to me, and one that doesn’t cost very much.” I tucked my mat underneath my arm and breezed past Helen, headed to the large closet where we stored instruction equipment, yoga blocks, straps, and extra merchandise. My mat went on the second shelf. “What do you have in mind?”
I probably could have answered that question myself.
“Well…it’s two-for-one margaritas tonight at Sturkey’s, and Josh said Keith is coming.” She adjusted her ponytail of thinning brown hair. “It’s the perfect night to meet him. He’s a great guy.”
“I don’t know—”
“It’s not like you’re dating anyone else.”
True.
“I just don’t think—”
“Come on, Natalie.” She put a hand on her hip. “What’s it going to hurt? It’s better than scouring SnapDate looking for someone.”
I winced. SnapDate. The app’s IPO had been a huge success, and I’d seen all kinds of articles about the millions the company made when it launched on Wall Street. It was also the night after the anniversary party. Luke would be in New York, finishing his visit. For the hundredth time that day, I wondered if he was enjoying himself.
Probably.
“One night of your life,” Helen pointed out. “What’s holding you back?”
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
Helen let out a tiny squeal. “Great. I’m so excited—this is so perfect. You’re finally going to meet Keith! And just think, if you two hit it off—”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” I held up a hand. “It’s drinks. That’s all.”
“It’s going to be more than that. You’ll see.” Helen winked at me, took her phone from the pocket of her zip-up sweatshirt, and sent Josh a text. “All set up,” she said after her phone pinged a reply. “Eight thirty. Sturkey’s Bar. Be there, and look hot.”