Rosie White, an Art History student working to achieve her life goal of becoming a sought-after local artist. She pours her heart and soul into her art and dreams of falling in love. After Rosie lost her grandma, and with no parents in sight, she se...
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At this moment in time, I've never been so glad to be in the presence of pretentious rich people. The conversations have stayed away from me and have resolved purely around the three other couples sat at the table. I guess they can sense someone different from a mile away, because none have even glanced in my direction. Apart from Charles Carlson of course. The daggers have been sent my way all through dinner.
I've learnt from eavesdropping on the conversations at the table that the couple to the right of me mention their 'inheritance' more than once, so I take it their money is old money. The couple to the left of me and Alexander have been in discussion with Charles Carlson all through dinner. It seems they are business associates and what I've gathered is Mr Carlson owns a financial firm? Investment firm? Something along those lines.
Money. I'm surrounded by it. Funny to think I was born into this, grew up in it for eight years. I hate it, and I don't know if I hate it because of the situation it's left me in or if it's because how it makes people act. If it wasn't for the wealth of my parents, I'd still have a family. I wouldn't be struggling to make ends meet.
But when I glance at Alexander, I don't know what to think. He's a billionaire, it's not only clear to see, but I've also done my research. He was listed on Forbes list of British Billionaires. But I feel a contradiction to my own opinion when I think about him and his money. When I look at him, it's not his worth I think about. I feel something else, deep down inside of me.
That scares me a little.
Alexander has remained silent all though dinner, he hardly ate and has nursed a scotch. The only reason I know he's still here is by the possessive hand wrapped around my thigh. When he leaned his arm under the table earlier and slid his hand under the material of my dress to rest his thick hand on the top of my thigh. I all but nearly combusted on the spot. That was the only time I saw Alexander's stoic look disappear for a few seconds, where his arrogant smirk replaced his expression as I fidgeted and blushed like a berry.
Now we're listening to the auction. The music has stopped, and all attention is to the front of the room where artwork is being shown and bid on by the room. I don't know when my artwork is going to be presented, but I'm nervous to see it sold. So far, the pieces have raised nearly twenty-five grand between the five pieces auctioned. Twenty-five grand already raised for the hospital. It's incredible, but as I watch the auction progress, I can't help but wonder if these people are here for the hospital, or their reputation. Then that got me thinking about Alexander's reputation, and what his father said. Truth be told, my minds been a mess since dinner commenced.
Alexander bid on the piece I noted to him I liked best and ended up buying it for just over six and half grand. I was pleased as I know the artist, I'm excited to see how she reacts to the news.
As the next piece is placed onto the easel on the stage, my heart rate picks up when I glance at my painting. I flick my eyes to Alexander and watch as he remains in his clearly agitated state. I'm trying not to be too concerned. I didn't want to 'date' Alex, but the thought that maybe he thinks his father was right, that I'm a 'gold-digging child' not to mention his employee, plays on my mind as the auction for my work commences.
