Love so Hot (Misfit Millionaires #1)

Chapter 14Willow

Chapter Fourteen

Willow

13 years old

I'm drowning in a sea of suits and fake smiles. The banquet hall's chandeliers twinkle overhead, mocking my boredom as I slump in my uncomfortable chair. I've lost count of how many of these stuffy events I've been dragged to. Probably a billion.

Under the pristine white tablecloth, I pull out the book I smuggled in my little satchel. Take that, corporate overlords! While the adults drone on about profits and quarterly earnings, I'm escaping into a world of talking animals and magic wardrobes.

I try to focus on the pages, but the monotonous voice from the presentation keeps intruding. "In Q3, we saw a 12% increase in..." Blah blah blah. Do they really find this stuff interesting? I roll my eyes and dive back into Narnia.

An hour later, I reluctantly close my book with a sigh. Finished already. Now what am I supposed to do? My stomach growls, reminding me of the dessert table I spotted earlier.

"I'm going to get some cake," I mutter to my mom. She gives a distracted nod, eyes glued to the PowerPoint slides.

I weave through the tables, dodging elbows and chairs. The dessert spread is a sugary oasis in this desert of dullness. As I approach, I notice another girl around my age eyeing the treats.

"Hi," I say, grabbing a plate and introducing myself.

She smiles shyly. "I'm Maya."

"These fancy dinners are the worst, huh?" I grab a slice of chocolate cake, feeling rebellious.

Maya nods. "So boring."

"What do you like to do for fun?"

"I love horseback riding," she says.

"That's awesome!" I reply, genuinely interested. "I've always wanted to try that."

As we chat about horses and hobbies, I can't help thinking how nice it is to talk to someone my own age at one of these things. Maybe these dinners aren't a total waste after all.

"What is it you like to do?" she asks me in return.

"Oh, you know. Plant stuff. Trees mostly."

Her eyes light up. "That's cool! Like a garden?"

I shrug. "Sort of. I try to plant as many trees as I can. Someone's gotta replace all the ones these guys keep chopping down." I gesture vaguely at the room full of businesspeople.

Maya's brow furrows. "What do you mean?"

I feel a familiar fire igniting in my chest. "Well, a lot of these companies destroy forests for their projects. So I figure, why not fight back by planting more trees? It's not much, but it's something."

Maya's smile fades a bit. "My dad's one of the business people here. He builds big buildings in cities."

I can't help but blurt out, "Oh, so he's one of the ones cutting down trees and destroying animal habitats." As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize I probably should've kept that thought to myself.

Maya's eyes widen. "What? No, he wouldn't..."

But I'm on a roll now, my passion for the environment taking over. "It's true. Every time they put up a new building, they're wiping out ecosystems. But there are ways to fix it! We could push for green building practices, create urban forests, maybe even..."

I trail off as I notice Maya's lower lip trembling. Uh oh. This is not going well.

"But... but..." Maya stammers, tears welling up in her eyes. "That can't be right. My dad's not... he wouldn't..."

And just like that, the waterworks start.

As if on cue, a tall man in an expensive suit rushes over. "Maya? Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

Maya looks up at him, tears streaming down her face. "Daddy, is it true? Do you kill animals and trees?"

The man's face turns from concern to anger as he looks at me. "What have you been telling my daughter?"

I open my mouth to explain, but before I can say anything, I feel a firm grip on my arm. My dad's here, and he does not look happy.

"I'm so sorry about this," he says to Maya's father, then turns to me. "We need to talk. Now."

As he pulls me towards the exit, I can hear the murmurs and see the stares from the other guests. So much for staying under the radar. I've really done it this time.

Once we're in the hallway, Dad's grip on my arm loosens, but his stern expression remains. I take a deep breath, ready to explain.

"Dad, I swear I didn't?—"

"Stop," he cuts me off, his voice low and tense. "These events are about networking and maintaining a positive image. Not stirring up trouble."

"But she asked me?—"

"I don't want to hear it," he interrupts again, running a hand through his hair. "Do you have any idea how important this dinner is? The connections we make here could?—"

"Make us more money by destroying more of the environment?" I mutter under my breath.

Dad's eyes narrow. "What was that?"

"Nothing," I sigh, knowing it's pointless to argue. He never really listens anyway.

Just then, Mom appears, her flowy dress swishing as she approaches. Dad turns to her, exasperation clear in his voice. "Margaret, take her home. She's not to come back into the banquet hall."

Mom nods, her warm brown eyes meeting mine with a mix of concern and understanding. As she leads me towards the exit, I can't help but feel a twinge of guilt. Not for what I said, but for disappointing her.

The drive home is quiet. I stare out the window, watching the lights blur past. Mom tries to break the silence.

"Sweetie, do you want to talk about what happened?"

I keep my eyes fixed on the passing scenery. "Not really."

She sighs softly. "You know, sometimes it's not about what we say, but how we say it."

I want to tell her that sometimes the truth hurts, that maybe people need to be upset to make a change. But instead, I just shrug and continue my staring contest with the streetlights.