Page 13 of Gold Rush

Because Kit’s dad trusts him. It was Kit’s decision to work at Kensington Consolidated. He willingly committed to Collins. He knocked up his assistant, yet my father still views him the opposite of me—incapable of doing anything wrong.

“So, not only do I have to get married, but I have to marry someone you approve of?”

“Yes. She’ll be a member of this family. Have access to our money”—once a stranger is involved, it’s “our” money—“and you’ve hardly had high standards in the past.”

My father hasn’t approved of a single woman I’ve dated. That was why I dated some of them. Molly’s presence at my graduation lunch ensured it only lasted forty-five minutes. Of course that’s coming back to haunt me, along with not insisting my trust requirements be in writing. Some almost lawyer I am.

I blow out a long breath, attempting to corral my chaotic thoughts. I’d love to storm out of here, but that will only serve as another immature example for my dad to use against me in the future. I have a job. He can cut me off and know I won’t end up on the street.

Maybe I’m as selfish as most people assume, that I’m this attached to money I didn’t earn. But I grew up expecting the safety net of it. And I was planning to do some good with it. I’ll have to delay the foundation to save up enough to launch it on my own, or I’ll have to accept Kit’s offer of funding. This was one thing I wanted to do entirely on my own.

“Counteroffer,” I state. “When I get engaged, I receive the first installment you promised me after graduating.”

Silence.

I’m positive Julian expected me to cause a bigger scene about the prospect of marriage. It’s why he insisted this dinner take place at Atlantic Crest’s restaurant.

“Fine,” he finally agrees. “That is acceptable.”

I nod. “You should call Adrian in the morning.”

“You told your mother you weren’t seeing anyone half an hour ago,” Dad says, amused. “You expect to be engaged soon?”

“Yep.” I pop the P, and it does little to exhale my frustration.

I almost wish Dad hadn’t agreed to this amendment. An engagement is better than marriage, but not by much.

“To whom?”

“I am dating someone,” I lie. “I didn’t mention it earlier because I didn’t want you and Mom to make a big deal about it.”

“Because we won’t approve,” Dad surmises.

“That’s not why.”

The hole I’m digging just keeps getting deeper, but I’ll think of something. I’ve played versions of this game with my father before. I bought a whole year before law school, “studying for the LSAT” after scoring a one seventy on the first practice test I took.

I saw through a bite of steak and pop it in my mouth. The rich meat tastes like ash. What a waste of a delicious meal. So like my father, to turn a celebration into a challenge.

“Who are you dating, honey?” Mom asks eagerly, jumping back into the conversation now that it’s safe to speak again.

I stare at her, the word fuck a constant refrain in my head.

I open my mouth, intending to make up a name. I can hire an aspiring actress—New York is full of them—to play my pretend fiancée for a few months, until the foundation is all set and I’ve found a cheaper place to live. The perfect loophole.

Then I glance at my father, who’s smirking. A name he doesn’t recognize is exactly what he expects. He’s sure—always so sure—that I’ll disappoint him.

I don’t want to swim against the current. But I do wish I could change its direction sometimes.

So, I name the only person I know my father won’t be able to come up with a single critique of.

“Rory Kensington.”

5

I’m curled on the linen couch, licking salt crystals off the rim of my margarita, when I hear clamshells crunch outside. I sit straight up, nearly drenching my tank top with tequila and lime, then quickly grab my phone. I have 911 dialed in seconds, thumb hovering over the Call button as I hastily compile a mental list of who could be arriving at Scarlett and Crew’s summer house.

My aunt and uncle are in England, visiting Lili and her fiancé, Charlie, ahead of their upcoming wedding. Kit is home in Manhattan; Collins posted a photo of him and Dylan exploring the Botanical Garden this afternoon. My parents have their own house nearby, where Wren is staying. That only leaves Bash. I have no clue where my youngest cousin currently is, but I’ve only ever seen him in the Hamptons for his grandparents’ Red, White, and Blue party. The Fourth was three weeks ago.