Wasn't gonna update, but it's my birthday today so I'm feeling extra awesome and so... 💗

Fourteen years ago

"Good morning, Miss Juliette. Breakfast is here." Harriet's trilled voice stirs me awake.

I am jetlagged and severely drained having returned home late last night from a two-week long family trip to Tanzania and South African safari.

The four round-the-clock maids walk in, clacking their heels against the floor, one of them holding a heavy tray. Three of them draw the thick aquamarine drape curtains shielding the massive window walls, letting the entire room flood with the sunlight.

I extend my hand to grab altoids and an enormous tinted Prada aviators and slide it on. I am in no mood for the sunlight in the state I am in.

"Where is Ares? He was supposed to wake me up," I murmur groggily as I pull myself into a sitting position.

The maid adjusts the tray above my thighs. I check my phone to see if he has left me any texts. This is the first time I had to be away from him for so long.

We always vacation together. He, however, as promised, didn't make me feel like he was miles away. We would Skype every morning, afternoon, and night and would talk for an hour or so. Except for last night when I was so dizzy that I fell asleep within a few minutes of our video call.

"He hasn't left any message, Miss Juliette. Do not worry, he could be stuck somewhere. He'll come as soon as he's free."

"I should be his priority." I scowl at the phone's screen, typing him a message. Where are you?

"Of course you are, Miss," she brushes my hair away from my face, finger combing them, and adjusts the strap of my cami slip. "You need to eat. Your mother wants you to eat properly so you do not look jetlagged at the Thanksgiving dinner tonight."

Something came up. Still in the Hamptons. I will see you at dinner tonight?

"I don't want to eat, Harriet," I groan, tossing my phone away on the bed. "Do I really need to attend the dinner? I am so exhausted."

"Your Bubbeh will be very upset and so will your mother," she says, lifting the heavy silver cover off the mahogany tray to reveal my favorite French breakfast.

Toffee praline croissant, a fromage blanc served with homemade granola and fresh fruits, crêpes, and freshly squeezed orange juice.

I jump awake. "Is this really for me? Does mama know about this?"

"Of course she knows. She is indulging her beloved daughter, Miss Juliette. It's a very important day today," she smiles, handing me a copy of The New Yorker. "Eat your food and read. Martha will get the bath ready for you once you're done."

"Should I talk to mama tonight and mention my desire to go to Harvard so I can be with Ares?" I ask, forking a piece of croissant. "She told the Yale chancellor who joined us at the safari that there shall be nowhere else I'd be going to."

"Perhaps not today."

"Do you think she'll say yes?"

"Every generation of your family has been educated at Yale, Miss. Juliette. It's the Rothschild family's legacy, so it would be difficult to convince her. Having said that, she loves you so I am certain she will listen to you."

"But it would greatly displease her, wouldn't it?"

"Perhaps."

"Bubbeh would also feel the same way. I cannot risk hurting them because of me," I say, spearing the crêpe.

"Well, there you go. You have made your choice."

"I just wish I could go to college with Areston. It's hard for me to go a day without him. How will I survive?"

"You cannot have everything at all times, Miss Juliette. In life, there always comes an instance where you have to make a choice and your time is this. I would always pick mama over my best friend if I were you. Master Areston is not your boyfriend. He may find a girl he'll fall in love with and spend all the time with her. You cannot always remain on his list of priorities so why must you make him yours?"

The idea slithers like a snake into me and coils around my throat, restricting me to breathe.

"So what if he finds a girlfriend? He already does keep having one every other month, but I continue being his first priority."

She hesitates.

"I suppose you're right." Pissed at not being able to do anything about it, I carve a huge chunk of crêpe and shove it into my mouth in the most unladylike manner.

"Your Bubbeh is expecting you to join her at 12 for the Rothschild Group's annual Thanksgiving softball match."

"I'm exhausted."

"Your parents, senators, mayor, board members, stakeholders, company and family staff, all along with their families will be there so it's important you be there."

I sigh. "Alright."

"Oliver will be ready to leave for the helipad at 11. This year the event has been organized at the New Jersey headquarters of The Rothschild Group."

I scrunch my nose in distaste. "New Jersey? Ew."

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"I'd happily trade this gourmet feast prepared by mama's Michelin star chefs in exchange for a delicious cheeseburger." I huff, smoothening my hands over my tight fitted golden mini dress that fits over my figure so perfectly like a glove and ends at least two inches above my mid-thigh.

Harriet ties one of the Rothschild family heirloom Harry Winston bracelets around my wrist. It is a tradition my Bubbeh follows of having her wear one of her precious heirlooms, a different piece every year, on the eve of Thanksgiving.

"Burgers will spoil your beautiful shape."

"I know. It's just that I have always wanted to try one. It looks so delicious. Watching that staff girl outside having it made my mouth water," I roll my eyes at her repeating mama's words like a parrot as I layer gloss over my lipstick. "And... I am done. It should be banned for anyone else to look as good as I do, wouldn't you say, Harriet?"

"Of course, Miss Juliette."

"I cannot believe I am wasting such a great outfit for a boring Thanksgiving dinner."

"You look beautiful. Your mother will be very delighted to see you."

"She's delighted indeed. I'll take it from here, Harriet. Thank you. You may excuse us." Mama joins us in the walk-in closet and flashes me a warm smile. "We are so proud of you for the impromptu speech you were invited to give on the stage at our second headquarters by the mayor, my sweet summer child. You were born to be the heir apparent of our dynasty."

"Thanks, Mama." What would I have wanted to be if I weren't so obsessed to become what was destined for me since before I was even born? A pastry chef.

"Your papa has a present for you. He wanted to give it to you on the eve of your birthday, but due to some unfinished business he couldn't," she says, handing me a map.

"So, he remembered my birthday?"

"Of course he did. What kind of a question is that, pumpkin. It isn't his fault you weren't around when he came to visit you so he could wish you in person."

I roll my eyes, opening the map. "What's this supposed to be?"

She points at the brown space labeled PRAIA DO ALGODÃO in Brazil, South America. "He has bought this island for you and had it renamed after you. Don't you love it? Now, you have your own island to summer with your friends. Your papa has had architects and interior designers model it as per your preference."

I sigh, thrusting the map back in her hand, and drink the remainder of orange juice from the glass I've been carrying in my hand. "I don't want it."

She frowns. "I do not appreciate this appalling behavior, pumpkin. What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" I cross my arms, turning to face her. "I am his daughter, mama. Not a mistress or girlfriend that he can neglect and compensate for it by showering extravagant presents."

"Pumpkin—"

"Can't you see? It's not for me that he does all these grand gestures. It's for you. He loves you and you love me. So ultimately, everything he does is to keep you happy. I know you're doing this because you think I am upset that regardless of having spent two weeks together pretending to be a perfect family, he did not find five minutes to spend with his daughter. I became livid and lashed out at him for it, and you lashed out at him for upsetting your precious and that's why he's doing all of this."

Her regal features turn arctic as she stares at me as if I have developed a pair of horns. She doesn't expect this behavior from me so naturally she's appalled.

I wince.

Why did I have to outburst like that? It's not even about my father. I am livid that I have waited the whole day and Areston hasn't shown up. Maybe I am never his priority.

Mama cups my face and drops a kiss on my forehead. "That's your jetlag speaking. You're tired and need rest. I'll see you at The House of Rothschild for dinner. Don't be late, my precious. You're my pride," she says and turns on her heels to leave.

Harriet lets out a shocked gasp as she reappears and snatches my hand. I have been so furious, the glass in my hand has broken from my fierce clutch and blood is dripping out of my palm.

"Will mama ever make an effort to understand that sometimes I do not appreciate the things she and he does, Harriet?" My voice chokes from the tears lodging in my throat as she cleans up the wound.

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"Is this my beloved pumpkin who has made us all proud with her impromptu speech today?"
I am absentmindedly twisting the celery stick in my cranberry juice when I am joined at the bar of the Legacy Lounge at The House of Rothschild by Areston's mother.

"Althea!" I throw my arms around her.
She's much more than my mother's close friend or my best friend's mother to me.

Althea Grosvenor has always been sort of a therapist for me. Whenever I am in doubt, I go to her and she solves things for me. I call her my Problem Solver In Chief.

"Oh, my goodness. I missed you so much. I hated giving the speech and hated flying all the way to New Jersey for that grotesque show off they call it an annual company event."

"Make sure your Bubbeh doesn't hear this or she'll be dismayed," she laughs, brushing my hair and kissing the top of my head. "You look beautiful, my exquisite angel. Love the gorgeous tan from the safari. Did you have a good time?"

Tanned herself from her Caribbean getaway with her son, she looks even more stunning. But then, she has never looked anything short of ravishing. Areston's magnificent gene pool comes from her.

"I did until papa joined us and ignored me as if I didn't exist. Not ignored per se. We chatted whenever mama and Chase were around. But you know what I mean. He did not spend a minute with me alone. As usual, he preferred work over me. He didn't have to prove what I already know. He doesn't love me."

She cups my face and gives me a soft smile. "Of course that's not true, sweetie. He's a busy man. Some fathers are closed off. It doesn't mean they love their children any less. You're his pride."

I roll my eyes, settling back into my chair. "Where is Ares? He promised he'll be here in the evening. I haven't seen him since I've returned. What's going on? It's so unlike him."

"He is—" She's cut off by a sharp vibration of her phone. She looks concerned while looking at the name of the caller as she shoots up on her feet. "I am sorry, pumpkin. This is business so I'll have to take it."

As I watch her head towards the garden, I decide it's time I pay Areston a visit and see for myself what's going on. Selene, Claire, all our mutual friends, and Chase with his best friends, all of them have taken off to attend a Thanksgiving bash thrown by the Governor's son.

I cannot because Rothschild family tradition dictates all of the members stay together. Chase never abides by it, but I have to. Areston should be home. Selene said he's not at the party. In the last conversation we had, he told me he's at his pad and hasn't returned home. I head to the kitchen where everything smells so delicious.

"Can you please pack four pieces of sachertorte for me?" I request the staff.

Areston hates it but he doesn't mind when I force feed him.

Carefully avoiding everyone, especially my family members, I walk outside with the box in my hand. My steps come to a halt when I hear Althea's voice as she speaks to someone.

"... he's my son and I know what's better for him, brother. I had decided the moment he was born that he'll have nothing to do with them and that's how it shall continue. He knows he has a royal aunt and that's enough. I do not understand Adrianna's sudden fascination with my son. She has two of her own. Isn't it enough for her?" She sounds furious. It's highly unusual because she's the most calm person I know.

Adrianna... that's Areston's aunt. She's a princess—wife of the youngest son of the King and Queen of Caravaggio. Althea never mentions her family, even though she has a big one.

Why is she so against the idea of her sister wanting to meet Areston? I don't understand.

"Ms. Rothschild, shall we?" Oliver's arrival distracts me.

"Yeah," I swallow, pressing a smile to my face.
It takes me a lot of patience to wait as the private elevator whisks me up to Areston's apartment.

I catch a glance of myself on the reflective surface of the walls and tenderly push my long bangs off my face. My hair is a little messy than I like. All the worry has got me looking like a mess. This is not me. I like being perfect all the time. I have every intention to lash out at Areston the moment I meet him for not having shown up to see me the whole day.

The door opens to the two sculptures by Kaws Flank adding more to the glory of the high luxury entrance, followed by Rafauli's custom bronze-and-solid-marble chandelier.

I wasted so much time collaborating with his interior designer to work on this modern Art Deco and for what?

Only to realize he intends to use it to entertain girls because he won't do it at his family home where he lives with Althea. I remember how infuriated I was when I found out.

I walk across the Nero Marquina and Escarpment Light marble covering the floor as I make my way to the living room where his housekeeper greets me.

"I hope he's here, Carmine. I swear I'll be livid."

"He's here."

"Good. Here, keep this in the kitchen," I say, thrusting the box in her hands.

"Why don't you take a seat, Miss Juliette? I shall let Master Areston know of your arrival."

"I shall see him myself." I storm towards the stairs when I hear her rushed voice behind me.

"I am afraid he has company," her hesitant voice makes me turn.

Wow. I take a deep breath, closing my eyes and mentally count to five. "How many?"

"Three."

I can hear my own teeth gritting in rage. I have been worried sick for him and he's busy entertaining girls. He's the best friend I am in love with. The best friend who wouldn't reciprocate my love because he fears it'll end up messing our bond. He is not ready to risk what we have because he knows he'll fuck up.

I feel so livid that there's nothing I can do to change his mind and so jealous that he prefers other girls over my company.

Climbing the stairs, I reach his bedroom and yank open the door, expecting the worse.

However, I am in for a shock.

My best friend is stretched on the cozy couch, plonking against the oversized-cushions, fully clothed and sipping champagne straight from the bottle.

The fact that we're underage doesn't stop him or my brother or my girl best friends or people our age in our circle either. There are three skimpily dressed girls dancing at Rihanna's Umbrella playing in the background.

I try to restrain my temper as much as I can as I cross my arms against my chest. "How dare you, Ares?"

"Belle?" He scrambles up, surprised to see me, and mutes the sound system.

"Who are you and why are you being a bother?" One of the girls questions me.

"I am not answerable to your bimbos so why don't you ask them to get the hell out of here?" I shoot him a sharp glare, refusing to spare the girls a glance and validate their presence.

He picks up the intercom and dials Carmine who sends a member of the staff that escorts the three away. They leave without a word and I am glad because I would have happily poured my entire fury on them had they done otherwise.

I find the beautiful, dreamy cobalt blue eyes staring right at me. "What are you doing here, Belle? You're the last person I expected to show up here at this hour. I did not want you to see me like this... with them."

"Well, life is all about surprises, isn't it?" I notice him closely, his skin is tanned, his dark hair streaked to a shade lighter from the Carribean sun. "You know, one day I am going to stop caring so much about you. I am going to stop loving you like an idiot. Perhaps that might be when you would realize what I mean to you," I sob, wiping my tears.

He puts his arms around me. I have to fight hard to keep my anger from dissolving. He smells so incredible I want to nuzzle into his neck. "You mean more than the world to me, Belle. I do not need to realize that."

"I was worried about you." I speak at last. I don't know whether I want to kick him or kiss him madly. I throw my purse on his bed and hug him back. "What's the matter? Why have you been avoiding me?"

"How about I help you get out of this overcoat first?" He answers softly, helping me get out of it and places it carefully on the couch. "You look hot." He smiles, burying his face in my hair, inhaling it deeply as he wraps me tight in his embrace once again. "Damn, I have missed your smell... I have missed you. So much."

"It didn't look like that with all those three bitches entertaining you," I snort, pushing him away as jealousy curls once again into the pit of my stomach. "You smell like those tarts. The only perfume that I expect to linger on you should be mine. Take a shower and I'll wait."

"Let me at least hug you properly before pushing me away. It has been two weeks since I last touched you." He lets out a soft laugh and tries to pull me back in a hug, but this time I take a step back.

"Don't you dare touch me with those hands that touched those girls. I am warning you, Ares. Go shower or so god help me–"

"Alright, fine. I'll go," he sighs, running his fingers in his hair. "You look like you could use some rest. How about you do that while I take a quick shower?"

I nod, still pissed-off and stroll to his walk-in closet.

"What are you looking for?" He follows me.
I grab one of his hoodies, which is surely oversized for me. "I need to get out of my outfit. It's suffocating me."

"Why grab the hoodie? I have had a selection of outfits stocked in here for you, including nightwear." He opens the slider drawer.

"Explain this." I narrow my eyes at him, watching the neatly lined arrays of clothes of all kinds, casual, evening, and night.

They were not here before.

"It's for emergencies like today," he shrugs.

"But I do not even like coming here. You know it."

"I take it as my job to ensure you have everything you may need when you're here. I want you to always be comfortable. This is your home too."

If I wasn't aware of his strictly platonic feelings towards me and the amount of his care for me, I would have mistaken this gesture as love.

"Am I supposed to be flattered?"

"No. Just comfortable," he whistles, leaning forward to tap his index finger on my nose. "Pick whatever you like. I am off to shower. I am hungry. Will you order something for me?"

"Yeah," I huff, grabbing a pair of satin shorts and a camisole and walking out.

I am flipping through the channels and eating almonds straight out of the box regardless of knowing it would greatly upset my mother if she were to find out when I notice Areston bringing his strides out of the en-suite.

His hair is wet from the shower. He's wearing a white shirt that is unbuttoned till halfway and a pair of black swim shorts, showcasing a gorgeous tan on his olive skin.

I gulp the crushed almonds in my mouth at the drool worthy sight in front of me.

We're distracted by the shrill ringing of the cordless intercom.

"Dinner is here," he announces, heading to open the bedroom door where a maid is waiting with a large tray in hand.

He settles at the end of the bed near my feet and puts the tray aside. There's a bottle of Veuve Clicquot, two glasses, a large pizza, and sachertorte that I brought. My mouth instantly starts watering. He pours me a flute of the champagne and hands it over to me.

"I don't drink. Have you forgotten?"

"One drink won't hurt."

"We're underage."

"For fuck's sake, Belle. Have it. It'll loosen your uptight nerves."

"They're not uptight!" I scowl, accepting the glass.

"C'mon, stop being mad at me. I apologize for today," he says, propping my feet in his lap and gently massaging them. Oh, my goodness.
It's a battle to not close my eyes. "Do you hate me?"

"You know I can't hate you." I dig the spoon in the plate of sachertorte to carve a small piece and lift it for him. He opens his mouth and eats it without argument. "I am a fool to have fallen in love with my best friend who is an absolute insensitive jerk."

He sighs, crawling beside me, and wraps an arm around me, dragging me close in his embrace. I close my eyes, tilting my body to face him. With my face against his chest, I put an arm around him, hugging him tight.

"There has been a lot going on, Belle," he murmurs into my blonde locks, his fingers gently stroking it. "I was going to come see you at the House of Rothschild but I didn't want to run into my mother and her shitty fiancé. We had a huge argument. I hate that bastard and I want to kill him."

"What did David do now?"

"Well, if it wasn't enough that he ruined our last day of vacation in the Caribbean by joining us uninvited despite knowing I can't stand him, I saw them fighting this morning and he hit her. I went to smash that motherfucker's face but she leaped in front of him to stop me and asked me to stay out of it," he says, his jaw tightening with rage.

"Oh, my goodness, Ares! That's so pathetic. Why is she allowing him to abuse her like that?"

"I don't know and I am not interested. She has been behaving strangely ever since she fell in love with him. It's not the first time he tried to hit her. I saw him do the same three days back when she was arguing with him about my grandparents."

"I heard her talking to your grandma."

"Yeah. They have been trying to get in touch with her... and me. Mom doesn't want it and David keeps pressing her to do otherwise."

"Why is he so interested in fixing things between her and her family?"

"Well, as it appears, he's an arriviste and being a nouveau riche only gets him so far. He needs the connections of my grandparents, more than what mom's already providing him. She thinks her sister is behind this idea. She mistreated my mother all her life and forced her to move away from the family for 16 years, and now she's interested in fixing the things between them. I have zero fucks to give anymore," he cuts a slice of pizza with fork and knife and lifts it up for me. "Eat. Let's not talk about her."

I pull my face away. "No, I can't. I have already consumed the calorie amount mama permitted me for Thanksgiving eve today."

"Eat, Belle. Consuming more than what that dictator allows you to eat won't hurt. You're 16 for fuck's sake."

"So what?"

"So act like normal teenagers instead of those 20-year old supermodels. It's not on your agenda or your mother's to have you walk on the ramp, is it?"

I scowl at him. "That doesn't matter. Mama wants me to maintain my skin and figure so that's what I am doing. There's nothing wrong with that. I do not wish to develop an acne prone skin or a muffin top so stop judging me and eat."

"I won't eat if you don't."

"You are forcing me to betray my mother's trust. You always keep doing this."

That pisses him off. "I am merely forcing you to eat, Belle. What the fuck is wrong with you? How can you be so devoted to someone? How can you not for once give precedence to what I want over her?"

"Because I am not your girlfriend. You don't want to make me one.

"Eat."

"No. I won't betray mama."

"You'll choose her over me?"

I climb out of bed and put my feet back in the heels. "I will always choose her over everyone else, Areston. I am leaving. Good night."

"Belle, come back."

"No."

I am marching out of his bedroom when he catches up with me and swoops me into his arms. Regardless of my protests he takes me to the bed and tosses me on it.

"I fucking hate it when you choose anyone over me," he whispers in my hair, spooning me from behind.

Tears threaten to burst out of my eyes. "You have given me no reason to choose you over anyone, Ares. I am not your girlfriend to be able to do that."

"And you will never be. What we have is too precious for me to sabotage it by making you my girlfriend. I can lose everything in the world but not you."

"One day you will. When I find someone... who wouldn't be afraid of falling in love with me. I am getting sick and exhausted of waiting for you, Ares. It hurts me when I see you with other girls. It's like they're touching what's mine... I do not like it. Sometimes I want to just find a guy so I can make out with him in front of you to make you feel the way I do."

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