Love so Hot (Misfit Millionaires #1)

Chapter 20Willow

Chapter Twenty

Willow

15 years old

The cloying scent of artificial lemon cleaner assaults my nostrils as I step into the community center. Great, another mind-numbing event where we pretend to care about the "common folk." I tug at the collar of my itchy designer dress, wishing I could trade it for my favorite worn-out jeans.

"Darling, do try to look a bit more... enthused," Mom whispers, her perfectly manicured nails digging into my arm. "Remember, we're here to show we care about all members of society."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. "Right, because nothing says 'we care' like designer outfits at a potluck."

Mom's lips tighten, but she plasters on a smile as we make our grand entrance. I swear I can hear a collective intake of breath as we grace the masses with our presence. Gag me.

As Mom and Dad mingle with the important people (read: those with the fattest wallets), I scan the room. My gaze lands on a group of teenagers in the corner, laughing and looking like they're actually enjoying themselves. Now that's a novel concept.

"I'm going to... um... network with my peers," I mutter to Mom, who barely acknowledges me with a distracted nod.

I weave through the crowd, dodging trays of suspiciously jiggly Jell-O salads and overly enthusiastic church ladies. As I approach the group, I notice one boy in particular. He stands out like a sore thumb in ripped jeans and a faded t-shirt, his dark hair artfully messy. When he turns, I'm caught off guard by the intensity of his green eyes.

"Uh, hi," I say, mentally facepalming at my eloquence. "Mind if I join you?"

The boy's gaze sweeps over me, lingering on my designer label. Great, here comes the judgment. But instead of the usual fake enthusiasm, his lips quirk into a smirk.

"Well, well," he drawls. "Slumming it with the peasants today?"

I blink, caught off guard by his bluntness. "I... what? No, I just wanted to?—"

"Wanted to what?" he interrupts, those green eyes challenging me. "Show everyone how charitable you are by gracing us with your presence?"

Part of me wants to turn tail and run, but something about his fierce gaze keeps me rooted to the spot. I square my shoulders, meeting his stare head-on.

"Actually," I say, surprising myself with my steady voice, "I wanted to hang out with people my own age who aren't obsessed with stock portfolios and golf handicaps. But if you'd rather I leave..."

For a moment, the boy's expression flickers with something that might be respect. Then he grins, extending a calloused hand. "I'm River. Welcome to the land of the normals, Princess. Think you can keep up?"

I shake his hand, and I feel a genuine smile tugging at my lips. "Try me."

We find a spot away from the crowd, outside on a grassy knoll overlooking the community event. River sprawls out, all casual confidence, while I sit cross-legged, hyper-aware of keeping my designer dress clean. Old habits die hard, I guess.

"So, Princess," River starts, plucking a dandelion and twirling it between his fingers, "what's it like living in your ivory tower? Do you have servants to fan you with palm leaves?"

I roll my eyes. "Ha ha. Very original. For your information, I actually hate all that stuff. I'm trying to make a difference, you know."

"Oh?" His eyebrow quirks up. "And how exactly is little Miss Moneybags saving the world?"

I bite back a retort, reminding myself that he doesn't know me. "I've been researching sustainable energy solutions," I explain, warming to the topic. "I'm trying to convince my dad to invest in green tech for his company. Did you know that..."

As I launch into statistics about solar power efficiency, I notice River's expression shift from skepticism to... is that interest?

"Not bad, Princess," he interrupts, and I'm not sure if I should be flattered or annoyed. "But talk is cheap. What are you actually doing about it?"

I falter. "Well, I... I'm still working on my father. It's not easy, but?—"

"Of course it's not easy," River scoffs. "You think real change comes from polite dinner conversations? While you're sipping champagne and debating wind turbines, there are people out there putting their bodies on the line to protect our planet."

His words sting, but I can't deny the passion in his voice. It's exhilarating and infuriating all at once.

"That's not fair," I protest. "I'm doing what I can with the resources I have. Not everyone can chain themselves to trees, you know."

River's laugh is sharp. "No, I suppose not. Wouldn't want to mess up that pretty dress, would we?"

I should be offended, but there's something about his fire that draws me in. I find myself wanting to prove him wrong, to show him I'm more than just a rich girl playing at activism.

"Maybe you're right," I say, surprising both of us. "Maybe I need to do more. Got any suggestions, O Wise One?"

For a moment, I see a flicker of respect in those intense green eyes. Then he grins, all challenge and mischief.

"Careful what you ask for, Princess. You might not like the answer."

I'm sitting in our sun-drenched conservatory, absentmindedly stirring my chamomile tea while my mind drifts back to River's fiery words. The delicate china cup clinks against its saucer. It feels so hollow when compared to the raw passion I'd encountered earlier.

"Darling," my mother's voice cuts through my reverie. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with that... boy at the event."

I suppress an eye roll. Of course she was eavesdropping. "His name is River, Mom."

She waves a manicured hand dismissively. "Regardless, I don't think he's a suitable influence. His attitude towards our family was quite disrespectful."

"Oh, you mean like how Dad talks to literally everyone?" The words are out before I can stop them, sharp and biting.

Mom's face tightens. "That's different. Your father is?—"

"What? Rich? Important? A complete jerk most of the time?" I'm on a roll now, all my pent-up frustrations bubbling to the surface.

Mom looks genuinely shocked. "I... I just don't want you to experience..." She trails off, her eyes suddenly distant.

"Experience what, Mom?" I prod, curiosity piqued by her uncharacteristic hesitation.

She shakes her head, composing herself. "Nothing, dear. I just want what's best for you."

I bite back a retort, sensing there's more she's not saying. Instead, I take a sip of tea, mulling over her words and the lingering fire River ignited in me. Maybe it's time to show them all what this "princess" can really do.

Mom sets her teacup down with a delicate clink, smoothing her skirt as if to brush away our tense exchange. "In any case," she says, her voice honeyed once more, "I wouldn't worry too much about that boy. It's unlikely you'll see much of each other in the future."

I arch an eyebrow, sensing the calculated nonchalance in her tone. "Oh? And why's that?"

"Well," she replies, examining her perfectly manicured nails, "we don't exactly run in the same circles, do we? It was just a chance encounter at a community event."

I bite back a snort. Right, because heaven forbid we mingle with the unwashed masses more than absolutely necessary. Instead, I plaster on a smile that would make my etiquette coach proud. "I suppose you're right, Mother."

Later that night, I'm sprawled across my ridiculously oversized bed, still mulling over the day's events. The silk sheets feel cool against my skin, but my mind is on fire with possibilities. River's words keep echoing in my head, challenging everything I thought I knew about my family's place in the world.

Just as I'm about to drift off, my phone buzzes on the nightstand. I fumble for it, squinting at the bright screen in the darkness. An unknown number flashes, followed by four words that send a jolt through my system:

Hey, this is River.

Well, well, well. So much for not seeing each other again. I grin into the darkness, already plotting my reply. Sorry, Mom, but I think your prediction might be a teensy bit off.