But… Despite his often questionable behavior and the rumors his esteemed father often buys him out of trouble, even I have a hard time believing Ander invited a barmaid to this upper-class event as his date.
That’s exactly what she claimed! And when Ander looked on, rather bored and unbothered, she became even more irate. Seeing Carly Delapaige on his arm, smashing in her custom Vera Wang gown, was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
In a most unsavory way, the barmaid began throwing out sharp words that silenced the entire room—even our own long-lost prince, Alexander Cossgrove, ceased playing his violin!
But that’s not all, dear friends. In a shivering turn of events, the words she spat were not even English! My sources report that she spoke Spanish, and are you ready for this?
She cursed him!
Our dear, roguish Ander who was merely having a lovely evening with a true princess on his arm has been cursed!
Now, I thought these things only happened in the movies and most certainly not at high-society events. But it did. And let this be an example that this is what happens when you let street rats mingle with the refined.
Being the good reporter that I am, I secured a place within listening distance, and I can tell you that it was indeed a curse. Ander, who is always unfazed by everything, was visibly ruffled and even asked the barmaid to take it back.
She refused!
Can you imagine? Now, I would be remiss if I did not report all sides of this event, and so I must put out there that Cauldron is an establishment Ander Todd frequents. He can often be found there with his old Academy mates like one of the Upper East Side’s other most eligible bachelors (since Ethan Abbott is off the market), Garret Worthington. Side note: Garret was also in attendance and enjoyed a first-row seat to the curse.
Henceforth, it would not be out of the question that Ander engaged in one (or more!) conversations with the barmaid while there. Perhaps his charming, flirtatious behavior led the poor girl on enough that she thought she had a chance.
Whether or not Ander is at fault here, the fact remains he was evilly cursed and visibly shaken by her heinous intent. In fact, the entire room shivered under her erratic spellcasting as she was quite literally dragged from the room, leaving yet another cheap trail of confetti in her wake.
How embarrassing.
When she was gone, Ander laughed it off, his dimples appearing along with that easy smile. But as I maintain, I was there. I can confirm that the smile and merriment Ander put forth was not genuine. It did not shine in the pure azure of his eyes. In fact, as I imbibed on more champagne, ruminating over the most fascinating events, I watched him (in secret, of course), and it was very clear to me that our usually unflappable, roguish prince was rattled.
It remains to be seen if the curse was indeed legitimate and if it will follow him or, even worse, the entire Todd line. Such a shame that such golden lineage suddenly be tarnished by a Mexican barmaid who wandered in off the street.
Perhaps Cauldron should vet their employees more carefully.
Or perhaps Ander Todd should finally grow up and stop playing with the unpredictable emotions of others.
Stupid paper. Who even read them anymore?
Clearly, my father did. And how unfortunate for me that the article was also posted online. Stupid gossip rag probably got more hits than the actual news.
“Do you even understand how bad this looks?” My father fumed, pacing back and forth behind the imposing desk in his home office. I didn’t think he knew how not to work. If he wasn’t in his actual office at his high-rise, then he was in here.
Isn’t there more to life than working and dying?
“It will blow over,” I told him. “It always does.”
“That’s the point, Ander!” his voice rose a few notches. “How many more times are you going to scandalize our family name?”
“I didn’t do anything.” This time. “She was the one who showed up and started freaking out!”
The look he gave me could have melted two-hundred-year-old wallpaper off a wall. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed. “You expect me to believe that?”
“It’s the truth.”
Pulling out his chair, he sat down. “I’m expected to believe you don’t know this bartender from a club I know you frequent more than you should?”
My throat burned, and my hands curled in on themselves. “I don’t care what you believe.”
“Well, you should, considering I’m the one who has to clean up all your messes!”
“I never asked you to!”
He laughed, humorless and annoyed. “And if I didn’t, everything I’ve worked so hard to build would be a laughingstock! Is that what you want? To walk into a room and everyone only ever see all the unsavory transgressions you’ve committed? I raised you better than this.”
My tongue ran over my very straight front teeth. “If you had, maybe we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
His head snapped up. His eyes, which were blue like mine, seemed to bore into me. The flat anger churning in their depths turned the normally bright color into something muddy and dark. “And what do you think your mother would say?”
Pain lanced through my waist, so sharp I wondered if it would slice me in half. He always did this. He always brought up the woman I barely remembered, throwing her memory in my face as if she would be so disappointed in the boy she birthed.
I never let on it was the worst kind of punishment, but he must have known anyway because he always brought her up.
“When will you grow up? You’re my heir, Ander. Everything you do reflects on my name. On me. You’re an embarrassment.”
I never asked to be his heir. I never asked for my mother to die when I was barely three. I never asked for a parade of nannies to raise me, and I most certainly never asked to be a trophy my father could display like a crowning achievement.
“What do you want?” I said, tired of this conversation. Standing from the chair, I pushed my hands into the pockets of my white jeans. “You want me to head to Martha’s Vineyard for a while? Stay out of sight until the gossipmongers have someone new to chew on?”
He arched a brow. “So you can get drunk and crash my yacht into someone else’s and stick me with a million-dollar bill to shut up those gossipmongers?”
I pursed my lips. “That was six years ago. Will you ever let it go?”
“Not this time, son. Not ever again.”
“Are we still talking about the yacht… or no?”
“I’m talking about everything. Every single indiscretion I’ve bailed you out of. I’ve coddled you, and perhaps there is some truth in what you said.”
I cocked my head to the side. He was agreeing with something I said? I glanced up, expecting the sky to come crashing through the ceiling.
“Perhaps if I hadn’t spoiled you so much, you’d be more of a man.” He spoke as if he harbored deep regret when, really, we both knew his only regret was that this time what I’d done made the society pages and was being blasted out by that wretch who considered herself an informed elite.
My back teeth ground together, making a horrible sound that echoed between my ears. I bit back a biting remark informing him that I could be freaking God of the universe, and he would still find fault with me as a man.
“So what, you’re disowning me?” I thought the idea of it would make me panic. Instead, an odd sense of relief reached out its hand.