“So you’re staying. You’re going to Brown in the fall.”
I nod. “I spoke to my advisor. She thinks she can help find me a few academic scholarships. I’ll apply for financial aid. Take out loans. Whatever I have to do to make this work.” A thrill moves through me, electric and wild. I’ve made my decision. And it’s remarkably liberating. I’m empowered in a way I haven’t in so long, I barely recognize the feeling. My voice practically rings with conviction. “I’m going to study design in one of the best arts programs in the country. I’m going to work my ass off. And one day, I’m going to build an empire of sustainable fashion that flips the whole industry on its head.”
There’s a prolonged silence. Oliver is looking at me with a strange mix of trepidation and confusion. As though I’ve just pulled a rug out from beneath his feet without warning.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask. “You knew I was planning to pursue design. I showed you my portfolio months ago, when we first met. We talked about this.”
“I guess… I didn’t think you were serious.”
My eyes narrow. “Why wouldn’t I be serious?”
“Josephine…” He hedges, avoiding my question. He’s getting a bit red around the collar. “This is all happening so fast. And it’s such a big decision. Don’t you think you need to give it a bit more time?”
“I’ve given it a year.”
“Let’s sleep on it. Okay? We can talk it over in the morning. Or, better yet, we can fly back home to Geneva and discuss it with your parents.”
I go still.
He doesn’t seem to notice. He tries to smile through his growing agitation. “Maybe there’s a way you can incorporate some of your passions into future plans at VALENT.”
“No.” I shake my head, rejecting the words. I can hardly believe he’d suggest something like that. “No, that’s not what I want.”
His smile is losing the battle against a growing scowl of frustration. “Fine. If that’s how you feel… fine. But I wish you’d hesitate before flying off the handle. I wish you’d at least talk to Blair and Vincent.”
“I don’t want to talk to them. All they do is lie, and deceive, and manipulate.”
“That’s not fair.”
“It is, actually.”
“Your emotions are running high, right now. This is a big decision. You can’t make it recklessly.”
“I’m aware it’s a big decision. But it’s my big decision to make.”
“Your decision?” He yells the words, his anger exploding. It’s startling. I’ve never heard him yell before. I’ve never even seen him lose his temper. “We’re practically engaged! Don’t you think I should have some say in you moving halfway around the world on a whim?”
I flinch. “A whim?”
“You know what I mean!”
“No, Oliver. I don’t know what you mean. Why don’t you explain it to me?”
He doesn’t heed the warning in my tone — the one that says back off, don’t push me, you’re on dangerous ground already. He’s too caught up in his own anger to notice mine. “For Christ’s sake, Josephine. You’re talking about abandoning your family legacy! Everything your parents have built! For what — to chase some silly dreams of fashion?”
“My dreams are not silly.” The words come out like ice, my voice cold as an arctic breeze. “Nor are they any less important or less valid than yours.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply…” He grits his teeth, trying to get his tone under control. “I just think you’re overreacting. You want to attend Brown? You want to study design? Then do it. But you don’t have to cut your parents out of your life to do those things.”
“Yes, I do! You aren’t listening to me! I don’t want to fold my dreams into theirs. They aren’t egg whites in a cake batter, Oliver. I won’t be absorbed into someone else’s recipe. Not anymore. I need to break away from them. If you knew what they’d done—”
“What have they possibly done? Besides support and love you all your life?”
“I can’t believe you’re blindly taking their side, without even hearing me out.”
“By all means…” He gestures flippantly, breathing hard. “Explain.”
“They lied to me, for starters! Last summer, they fabricated a whole story to get me on that plane to Switzerland. They orchestrated a separation between me and my best friend in the world. They basically blackmailed him into—” I press my eyes closed along with my lips. “Listen… What matters is, I no longer trust them. They don’t have my best interests at heart. They never have. They never will. They’re only interested in what I can do to advance the Valentine name.”
The silence stretches on, lengthening from uncomfortable to unbearable. When I gather the courage to open my eyes and look at Oliver, he’s wearing an expression of such acute disappointment, it hits me like a bullet to the heart.
“I see what’s happening here.” He laughs, but there’s no mirth in the sound. “This isn’t about which university you want to attend or what you want to study. It’s not even about your parents. This is about him.”
“Oliver—”
“Do me the courtesy of not lying about it, Josephine. I think you owe me that much.”
My lips press tight together.
Oliver rises slowly to his feet, hands bracing against the desk. “Did you fuck him yesterday?”
“No,” I breathe, feeling color rush to my cheeks. “But…”
“But?”
“We kissed.” I blink hard, holding back tears. “I’m sorry. It happened. I’m not going to lie to you about it or pretend otherwise.”
He takes off his glasses and sets them down. He’s panting with anger, his shoulders rigid with tension. “Well, I’m not going to compete with some… some… lowlife fisherman for your heart.”
I stare at him, not recognizing the man before me. It’s like staring at a stranger. I tell myself Oliver Beaufort is kind, generous, welcoming. Warm, open, affectionate. He is not this person — this man with thinly veiled superiority and the cold blue blood of elite society.
Or… A small voice pipes up insistently. Maybe he’s not bothering to wear a mask anymore.
“I can’t believe you just said that,” I whisper. “You sound just like my parents.”
“Yeah, well. Unlike you, I don’t see that as such a terrible comparison. I quite like your parents.”
I shake my head. Sadness is blooming inside me, along with another emotion. It takes me a moment to recognize it as relief. I’m relieved, looking at this man before me. This seemingly perfect man who, it turns out, may not be so perfect after all.
“Can I ask you something?”
He sighs deeply. “You can ask me anything you’d like, Josephine.”
“If you had to choose between me and my parents… between a future as my husband or a future as a senior vice president at VALENT… which would you pick?”