Rich Girls Don't Date King Thrushbeard: Part 3
Larisa hatches a plan.
The moment I closed the front door behind me, I was filled with a wave of regret.
I should have gone on the date anyway. I should have explained why I was crying and asked him to look past my parents’ money. I should have explained why I’d only gone on only one date.
But it was too late now.
I went to the kitchen – which, as always, was pristine and perfect. There wasn’t a speck of dirt or dust anywhere, all thanks to Sarah, our housekeeper. I made myself a cup of tea, taking care not to get any brown droplets on the surfaces. It felt like I was insulting Sarah every time I did that.
My love life wasn’t the only thing my parents thought they could arrange for me. They’d insisted on me taking business studies at university – and it was amazing they’d even let me apply to the universities I wanted to attend. Dad hadn’t been keen on that at all, only Mum convinced him to “compromise” with me.
Well, joke was on them. I was planning on switching degrees as soon as I could, and since I’d badgered them into letting me get a loan instead of having them pay my tuition.
Event organising was the thing I really wanted to do, and I hadn’t truly realised it until I’d been chosen to host a party last autumn. And people had enjoyed it, too. I’d enjoyed it. Something inside me had just clicked when I was making plans and thinking of all the details, like the food, drinks, and blankets to keep people warm.
I was going to make my own way in the world and not rely on my family’s money.
Even if you have to live without money?
The thought almost froze me for a second.
There was some leftover lasagne in the fridge. I heated it up and sat down to eat; it tasted just as good on the second day as it had last night.
Of course, just as I’d finished it, the front door opened.
“Larisa!” Dad shouted.
Here we go. “In here, Dad.”
He came storming through a moment later, Mum close behind him. “What was the meaning of that? We arrange a date for you, and you don’t even bother to show up? I have never seen such rudeness from you before, Larisa. Explain yourself, now.”
“I overheard him talking to someone. He didn’t want to go on a date with me, Dad. He only agreed because he didn’t feel like he could say no to you.”
Dad faltered, just for a second. Then his angry expression was back in place. “You could at least have given the boy a chance! His family owns Goldbriar Farm, for crying out loud!”
What? Tyler’s family owned the farm that made that lovely-looking honey?
“The Pastons are a rich, well-respected and admired family, and…”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh yeah, because money and status are all…”
“Don’t interrupt me! And don’t you dare roll your eyes at me, young lady.”
I shut my mouth, glaring at him.
Dad sighed heavily. “We’ve tried to match you with several eligible boys from perfectly respectable families, Larisa, and you’ve turned down all of them. Well, no more. You’re dating the next one.”
“I’m sorry?” Had I heard that right?
“You heard me. You will date the next boy I choose for you, and you will stick to it unless I decide otherwise. Do you understand me?”
So many emotions were whirling around with me. Shock. Disbelief. Outrage. I didn’t know what to do.
Dad stepped a little closer to me. “Do you understand me, Larisa?”
“You can’t force me to…”
“Oh yes I can! I suggest you cooperate, because you will not like what happens if you do not. And since your car is in my name, I will be keeping hold of the keys. There will be no driving anywhere unless I decide otherwise.” He whirled around and stalked out of the kitchen.
I clutched at the back of my chair, breathing heavily. After a moment, I looked at Mum, who was just standing there and watching me.
“He can’t do that, can he?” My voice was no louder than a whisper. “He can’t actually force me to date someone.”
Mum’s solemn expression made my stomach feel cold.
“Go along with it,” she said. “It won’t be so bad.”
She turned around to leave.
“Mum…” I called, but she’d already gone.
The kitchen was far too silent now. I sat back down again, head in my hands, trying to get my thoughts together.
He couldn’t do this. I wouldn’t go along with it.
I suggest you cooperate, because you will not like what happens if you do not.
Was he doing all of this with marriage in mind? If he saw no reason for me and the next boy to break up, would he insist on us marrying?
Is that what happened with him and Mum?
No. This was my life, and I was going to live it my way. I was eighteen and a legal adult, and if I had to live without my parents money, that was fine by me.
I had my own accounts, and there was enough cash in them to last a couple of months. I could grab all the clothes, documents and ID I needed, move to the dorms at my chosen university – they were open over the summer – and stay there. Maybe get a job as a waitress or something to earn some more money.
But I would not date anyone of Dad’s choosing or let them control my future. I was done.
***
The suitcases beside me felt unnaturally bulky. I shifted around, glancing down one end of the road then the other. The late afternoon sun was comfortably warm rather than hot, and I prayed I wouldn’t start sweating out of nerves.
Sneaking out of the house had been easy. Dad was in an online meeting (which meant he would have been wearing headphones) and Mum had gone out for a late afternoon tea. She wouldn’t be back until seven at the earliest, which meant I had at least an hour head start before they noticed I was missing.
Hopefully, that wouldn’t be until supper.
I’d already bought a baguette and a drink from a café. As well as the suitcases, I had a small bag with only my phone in it. My laptop, documents, purse and money were all tucked away in one of my suitcases. I had enough money in my pocket for a bus, then I would catch an overnight coach.
Later, I would call Claire and tell her what was happening. I’d already left a message for my parents. They’d think I was sulking in my room and wouldn’t discover the note until I was already on the bus.
Unless they’d already read it.
I glanced at my watch again, then back down the road. Only five minutes left until the bus arrived.
Just then, my phone rang. I opened my bag; it was Mum. Rolling my eyes, I pressed the red button on the screen and put it back in my bag. I was about to zip it shut when a text came through.
Dad: CALL US NOW.
Uh-oh. That did not look good.
“Everything all right?”
I almost jumped. A woman with dark, greying hair and bright blue eyes was standing right next to me.
“Sorry!” she said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“It’s OK.” I frowned as I studied her face. “You look really familiar.”
“My husband and I work at the local sixth form. Pardon my presumption, but it’s Larisa, isn’t it? Larisa Harcourt?” She held out a hand. “I’m Jocelyn; nice to meet you!”
I shook her hand. “You too.”
“So…was everything OK there? You looked a little frightened.”
My first instinct was to tell her to mind her own business, but there was something about her that seemed so comforting and friendly. I couldn’t help but feel this was someone I could trust.
“I just left home, and from the looks of things my parents just found my note. Before you say anything, I’m eighteen and a legal adult. I just can’t…” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “If I don’t get out of that house, they will keep planning my life for me. Including who I will marry. And I don’t want that.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Except now they’re probably going to send pictures out on socials asking: ‘Have you seen this girl’. Because I said I was going to tell them where I was when I got there.”
“I think I might be able to help you with that.”