Clara had no idea that the Henry Caldwell her father had mentioned was actually Henry Caldwell’s son. When she asked the name of the man her father was arranging for her to marry he simply said Henry Caldwell, nothing else. The names of Caldwell’s children did not appear on his Wikipedia page. Clara felt really confused for a moment, wondering if her father had been referring to the father or the son all along. It became clear it was the son when her father pinched her arm and gave her a distinct look when Henry Jr. arrived.
Henry Jr. seemed to be around her age, athletic and handsome. Clara's mind raced as she tried to process this new information, wondering what it would mean for her. She didn’t know him, she couldn’t tell if he was nice or interesting, but he wasn’t an old man with four kids and three ex-wives. Clara adjusted herself on her seat, feeling Adrian’s cum soaking her panties. That was going to be an interesting lunch.
Henry Caldwell Jr. was a 19-year-old lacrosse player attending Princeton University. He had been mostly educated at a boarding school in Switzerland and was very passionate about sports—this was all Clara found out about him during lunch with their families. He was undeniably cute, and Clara felt a pang of guilt when Adrian returned to their table. She could barely look Henry in the eye.
After they finished eating, her father suggested that she and Henry Jr. take a walk in the gardens before the desert was served. The topic of "marriage" was never explicitly mentioned, but every interaction seemed charged with the unspoken expectation.
Clara asked Henry, after a few minutes of walking in silence, attempting to break the ice, "How's Princeton?"
"It's cool," Henry replied shortly, avoiding eye contact.
Clara pressed on. "I’m actually planning on going to Princeton next year."
Henry responded with a nod and a noticeable lack of enthusiasm. Trying again, Clara asked, "So, how's lacrosse?"
Henry cut her off, his tone rough. "Cut the bullshit. We don’t have to pretend we aren’t being set up by our parents."
Clara was shocked by his bluntness. "I’m just trying to be nice. I’m not exactly thrilled about being an arranged bride either but here we are."
Henry's expression softened slightly, but his voice remained firm. "Don’t try. This is not a fairytale. Just keep our families content and pray something happens to make them forget about this stupid idea."
Clara felt a mix of anger and sadness. "You don’t even know me. Why do you seem to already hate me?"
Henry sighed, looking away. "I already have someone, Ms. Miller. And she’s not you."
Clara couldn't help but feel upset by the harshness with which Henry had treated her. Like him, she didn't want to be married to a person she barely knew, but he didn't have to be rude or make her feel bad, as if it were her fault. She wished he could have been more understanding and kind, even in their mutual discomfort with the situation.
Clara and Henry Jr. returned to the table where their families were drinking wine and chatting. Clara was seated across from Adrian, who was distracted in a conversation with Henry’s father and barely looked at her. She looked around and saw everyone distracted with their expensive drinks and frivolous talks. So she picked up her phone and then accidentally dropped it.
"Adrian, my phone rolled under the table," she said to him. "Can you get it for me?"
"Of course," Adrian replied, bending down to retrieve her phone. As he did, he noticed Clara discreetly taking off her panties under the table.
Clara kicked her panties to Adrian and then crossed her legs, giving him a brief look at her pussy while their family entertained the Caldwells. Adrian picked up her panties and her phone and got up. He shoved her panties into his pocket and gave her the cellphone with a malicious smirk on his face.
The sun was setting beautifully on the horizon, casting a warm glow over the garden. Clara decided to watch it alone, needing a moment to herself. She thought about Henry’s words, telling her this was not a fairytale, and felt a pang of sadness. She knew that’s how everyone saw her: a delusional and naïve little girl. The only one who didn’t see her that way was Adrian.
As she stood there, lost in her thoughts, Adrian silently approached her, his presence a comforting shadow while she watched the sun dip below the horizon.
Adrian broke the silence, commenting wryly, "So, the rich asshole is apparently the rich asshole’s son."
Clara chuckled softly. "At least now I know my father isn’t cruel enough to randomly marry me to a guy twelve years his senior," she said, trying to find some humor in the situation. “Although Mr. Caldwell seemed to be way more interested in me than his son.”
Adrian studied her face. "You still seem upset."
Clara sighed. "Henry’s just a stupid boy… And he already loves someone else. He made sure to note that it wasn’t me."
Adrian frowned. "That was uncalled for, I guess."
Clara nodded, frustration bubbling up. "Everyone is so unnecessarily cruel to me… Except for you, Adrian."
Adrian said softly, "I think I was quite cruel to you today."
Clara gave him a suggestive smile. "I like when you’re cruel like that."
Adrian raised an eyebrow. "Where are your panties, by the way, Ms. Miller?"
Clara shrugged and chuckled sarcastically. "I have no idea, Mr. Belfort. I’m so clumsy, I must’ve lost it somewhere…"
Adrian leaned in slightly, a playful glint in his eye. "Were you teasing me like that during lunch because you were upset with the Caldwell boy?"
Clara played dumb, giving him an innocent look. "Of course not. I would never do that."
Adrian raised an eyebrow. "Are you planning on telling your fiancé that you let your uncle fuck you raw whenever he wants to?"
Clara shook her head, a mischievous smile on her lips. "He doesn’t have to know. No one needs to know, right?"