It’s blank now, which could mean a lot of things. Is he angry, disapproving?
Or maybe he’s just indifferent as he is most of the time.
I can’t stop looking at him, studying him, getting my fill of his face as if I won’t see him for a while. I’m engraving everything into my memory, like how he fills his suit or how he appears majestic in it.
I can’t stop staring at his thick brows and lashes, at the slight stubble covering his jaw, and at how a few strays of dark blond hair kiss his forehead with each gust of wind.
And for a tiny moment, I wish I was a stray hair or the air. Either would do.
But what I really can’t stop staring at are his dark eyes that appear almost black right now. Those eyes have a language of their own that no one is allowed to learn, no matter how much they attempt to.
A language that I’ve been desperately trying to speak for a while now.
I grip the phone harder, needing the courage it provides as I speak, “I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“One less thing for King to worry about.”
I bite my lower lip, unable to hide the disappointment at how he blatantly ignores my statement and pushes it all to Dad.
It’d be better if I stopped.
Usually, I would.
Nate isn’t the type of man anyone likes to push—and I’m no exception.
But if I did, how would I accomplish what I’ve strived for? I waited for my eighteenth birthday to shout that I’m a woman now.
That I want him to see me as one.
That’s probably why I ask, “Do you think I should have a boyfriend?”
“That’s none of my business, kiddo.”
“I-I’m not a kiddo.”
His lips twitch. “You just pouted like one.”
Damn it. I knew he still thought of me as if I were a little girl. Can’t he see I’m all grown up now? That I’m looking at him?
That I can’t stop looking at him?
“I’m making it your business,” I insist. “So what do you think?”
“About?”
“Should I get a boyfriend?”
“No.”
My heart nearly rips my ribcage open and hops out to dance at his feet. He said I shouldn’t get a boyfriend. That can’t be meaningless, right?
“Why not?” I try to sound cool, but I can’t control the tremor at the end.
“King wouldn’t like it.”
Oh.
So it’s back to my dad again.
Seems I’m out for blood, though, because I still refuse to drop it. “How about you?”
“How about me?”
“Would you like it if I had a boyfriend?”
He pauses, then says, “I would be neutral.”
Right.
Of course, he would.
Why would the king of the jungle look in the direction of a stray cub when he has countless lionesses by his side?
The breaking sound in my chest that I felt when I thought he didn’t show up returns and I dig the edge of my phone into my ribcage as I struggle to maintain a neutral fa?ade.
This would be the perfect time for me to stuff myself with some vanilla ice cream or a milkshake while I hide in the closet.
“Happy birthday, Gwyneth.” He reaches into his pocket and produces a small blue box and tosses it my way.
I let the phone fall to my lap so I can catch it. Receiving a gift from him is almost enough to make me forget about his words. About the apathy everyone in the media talks about.
Almost.
“Can I open it?”
“Sure.”
I didn’t even open my other presents, but the ones that I have from Nate are always first on my list. In the past, he’s always gotten me toys and books. This isn’t the packaging of either of those.
Inside, I find a gold link bracelet with a scale charm hanging from the chain. I let it dangle between my fingers and smile. “It’s so beautiful.”
“My assistant picked it out.”
I drag my gaze from the bracelet to him.
He’s letting me know that he would never pick something like this for me, but whatever, he’s the one who bought it and that’s all that matters.
“It’s still beautiful. Thank you.”
“King said you want to study law.”
“Yeah. He’s my role model.” And you.
I don’t say that, though, because in some way, it feels like he’s put up walls in the span of seconds. The tightening in his jaw and face scare me.
But apparently, they don’t scare me enough, because I blurt out, “Can you help me put it on?”
“No.”