. . excuse me, ladies,” I tell them, giving Violet a peck on the cheek and whispering in her ear, “Relax, have fun. Trust me, after the champagne starts flowing, nobody’s going to notice a damn thing.” A saucy wink seems to put her at ease, and I trust that Abi won’t leave her to the wolves.
I follow Karl into the house and up to Dad’s study. The huge glass doors are open, and Dad stands on the balcony that overlooks the garden, looking pleased as he sips a gin. “Well, now, Ross, seems things are getting interesting.”
I walk over to his side, following his sight line. A black limo is parked in the drive, the driver helping Violet’s family exit. Two young women, who must be part of the triplets Vi told me about, look around in awe, clutching each other’s hands. Next comes Maria, and then Sofia and Nana get out last, the driver smiling and laughing at something Sofia says. Honestly, there’s no telling what just came out of her mouth to have an experienced never-show-a-reaction driver behaving so . . . normally.
Nana turns back, ducking into the limousine, and returns with a foil-covered dish before pinching the driver’s cheek. He waves and walks back around, getting in to pull away.
“Is that . . . did they . . . bring food to a catered affair?” Dad asks with a soft laugh. But as Karl runs up to greet the group of ladies, offering to take the dish, Dad turns to me. “Ross, tonight is important. To your mother and to the company.” I can feel the heat of his embarrassment, the fear that the Russos are going to make him look bad.
I smile wryly. “For the people you’re raising money for? Because let’s be real. They’re just the poster children for the real purpose of this party—to see and be seen, to negotiate back room deals and rub elbows with other people just like you. There’s just enough humanity left in that crowd out there to want a sad-eyed kid as the bow on top so you don’t seem like heartless Scrooges rolling around in your money.”
The muscle under Dad’s eye ticks. “You make it sound as if you’re not one of us. As if you didn’t grow up right here with this privilege. At least we’re trying to make a difference in the world, yes, by hobnobbing with the wealthy, but that’s how change happens on a large scale. It costs money, Ross. And if money offends your delicate sensibilities, when was the last time you made a difference on a personal level? I have three MBA candidates I’m mentoring this year through the university, and your mother reads at the homeless shelter four times a month.” Dad shakes his head, utterly disappointed . . . in me.
But he’s not done. The hits keep coming. “This is what I was saying. You’re nothing but an entitled brat who’s stomping his foot at any rules or expectations outside the boardroom, no matter how reasonable they may be. But this time, you’re going to hurt a lovely young woman in the process. Violet doesn’t deserve this, Son. She deserves better than to be used.”
I gape, incredulous.
It’s not that Dad doesn’t believe that this is real, not because of the speed or convenient timing. It’s because he thinks I’m not worthy of Violet, that she’s too good for me and could never actually love me. In a lot of ways, he’s one hundred percent right. She deserves the sun and the moon and everything she could ever wish for. But for my own father to say that I’m lacking somehow stings more than I would’ve ever thought it would.
“I love her, Dad. And I will do everything in my power to provide anything and everything she could ever need or want.” The words ring true, even to my own ears and heart, which doesn’t surprise me in the least.
He shakes his head like I’m missing the point, and I realize he thinks I intend to buy Violet’s affection. He couldn’t be more wrong. She isn’t with me for the money, is maybe the only woman who ever wasn’t, but for her own reasons.
Reasons that are changing, growing, morphing into something different, better. Just like my reasons . . . just like me.
But he doesn’t see that. Not yet. But I’ll show him and show Violet. Most importantly, I’ll show myself just how much I can grow.
I never considered