Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 69953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
I feel like a fool for even saying something.
He looks over my shoulder at a man standing behind a large table filled with delicious cakes and pies. “I help my father out with the catering when he needs it.”
“Interesting.” I nod a few times, impressed. “You know, you speak excellent English for a Dutchman.”
“Oh, I’m not Dutch,” he replies.
“Whoops, sorry,” I say, clearing my throat. “I shouldn’t have assumed—”
“It’s fine. We only just moved here from the US,” he says, shrugging. “Business opportunities or something.”
“Awesome. We’re only here for the wedding, but I can’t imagine having to learn the language.”
“Ah, it’s not so bad. Besides, my father teaches me. He grew up here.” He scratches the back of his head. “But I’m still getting used to it.”
“Hope your father pays you well then. You deserve it, especially with those amazing flips,” I say.
A mischievous smile curls his lips. “A little more than he should, but I usually tuck half back into his wallet when he isn’t looking.”
“Wow. Not only a great host, but also the best son a father could want,” I say, and his charming smile makes me swoon. He’s such a cutie and so nice too. My father should definitely hire him more often. And his father, of course. Can’t forget about him.
“So … what’s your name?” he suddenly asks.
“Oh, Charlotte, hehe.” I tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. I deliberately don’t tell him my last name because I don’t want him to know that pompous man who just got married is my father.
“Easton Van Buren,” he says, and he holds out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
We shake hands and end it with an awkward smile. Luckily, he immediately hands me my drink because I wouldn’t wanna be caught fidgeting.
“Boring wedding, right?” he mutters under his breath, laughing it off a little.
“Yeah,” I reply, trying not to make it sound as though I actually know these people even though I do. Too well. I wish that wasn’t the case right now because this is embarrassing.
“If I had that much money, I wouldn’t spend it on any wedding. I’d cruise the world, or build my own home, or start a whole chain of clubs, or create a charity fund,” he says.
I take a few sips of my Coke. “A charity fund? For?”
“Children in poverty,” he says. “But you know… no one gives a shit about charities like that,” he says while chopping ice to put into the glasses.
“I do,” I say, clutching my glass.
He stops picking the ice and cocks his head. “Really? Or are you just saying that to sound cool?” He raises a brow.
“Nah, I mean it,” I reply, taking another sip of my drink.
“So if you were rich, you’d donate money to my hypothetical charity?” He puts up a smug face that makes it hard to say no.
So I nod. “I would,” I say. “But only if you swear on it that you’d do the same.”
“Fine,” he says, holding out his hand. “I’ll swear on it.”
Damn, he’s serious about this.
I grab his hand and shake it again. “Deal.”
His grin is infectious. “Now all we need to know is which of us will get rich first.”
I try to contain my laughter, but it’s hard. I don’t want him to think I’m a douche. I mean, if I was rich, I would do it. But my father’s the wealthy one, and I’m not sure he’d ever spend it on a charity.
“That prick who’s getting married right now doesn’t give a shit about any of that, I’m pretty sure. You’re the first who’s shown any interest in talking with any of the staff.”
“The only one? I doubt that.” I narrow my eyes, ignoring the fact he just called my father a prick.
“Literally the case. No offense,” he says. “I mean, I don’t wanna be an asshole, but you know how rich people are …”
I rub my lips together, not knowing how to answer that.
“Charlotte!” My father’s voice immediately makes me turn my head. He beckons me to come over. “Ahh …” I mutter when Easton’s eyes travel toward my father.
The one who got married is my father. And I’m the spoiled, rich daughter.
His smile slowly dissipates.
Our eyes connect again, and at that moment, he knows what I think of him. That he was a dick for insulting my father, but I don’t even mind because he’s right. In his eyes, I’m that filthy rich girl who could do everything she wanted, and the world envies people like me. But they don’t know what goes on behind closed doors and how we miss things like human interaction and actual love.
And even though I’d love for nothing more, we’ll probably never talk again. Our worlds are too different, too far apart for that to ever happen.
“Shit,” he stammers. “I didn’t … I wasn’t …”