4. Jasper

Slipping my arms into the crisp white dress shirt, I'm buttoning it up–and staring at myself in the mirror–when I'm startled by a knock on my bedroom door. I know who it is without even hearing her voice. My mother, coming to see if I'm dressed yet.

I don't want to go to this frat party organised by my parents at the university. It's not so much a frat party but a way for my parents to pretend they give a rats about my education, and to parade me and the next girl they're trying to set me up with. They've been trying to set me up with a wife–from another wealthy family–since the day I turned eighteen. And much to their annoyance–and disgust–I've turned down every one of them. All ten of them. And I've got no doubts I'll turn down this latest girl, even if she's the most gorgeous girl I've ever seen.

It's not that they're girls. I honestly couldn't care what gender they were, but it's the fact my parents are choosing for me. They're hypocrites. They were in love when they got married, and still are, madly so. It frustrates me that no matter how many times I tell them I want love, that I want to choose who I marry, they don't hear my plea. It's all about our wealth, our family name aligning with an equally wealthy family so the Capullo legacy lives on in Vemore.

"Jasper, dear, are you ready? May I come in?" she calls out through the door, opening it slightly even though I haven't answered her.

"Come in, Mother," I respond, continuing to button up my shirt and not turning to face her as she enters my bedroom.

"Are you wearing a tie, dear?" she asks, stepping up behind me and glaring at me in the mirror, a scowl on her face.

I shake my head, doing up the final button. "No mother," I tell her. "And if you request I do, I'm not leaving my room, let alone attending this farce of a party."

"How you wish, Jasper. Please finish dressing in haste. Your betrothed to be is waiting in the parlour."

I sigh, pouting, and turn to face her. "Don't pout, Jasper. It causes wrinkles."

She's always full of stupid advice like that. As if pouting causes wrinkles; more like smiling does. Mother is always smiling, and her face is wrinkled way more than it should be for a woman of less than fifty. She grips my waist and tucks my shirt in, yanking on the waistband of my slacks.

"Ouch, mother," I snap, shoving her hands away.

"You must look presentable. Miss London Devine is awaiting your presence."

Fuck me, even her name sounds pretentious. "Seriously, mother. I wish you'd stop this constant charade of setting me up. I want to find my love on my own."

"You will do nothing of the sort, Jasper. You will be marrying Miss London come spring."

I scoff. I want to spit words at her, angry words but I don't have it in me to hurt my mother. She'll be a sobbing mess and go to father which will earn me a talking to and a hiding to the backside, despite my being an adult capable of my own decisions.

I don't have a choice in this matter, so I need to suck it up and face my future wife.

"As you wish, Mother," I respond, following her out of my bedroom to the parlour.

A petite blonde girl is standing with her back to me, facing the fireplace. Her hands are clasped behind her back, and father is next to her speaking to her in hushed tones. Her dress is cream coloured, resembling a wedding dress of sorts, and I have to clear my throat to hide the scoff escaping my mouth. I hope I'm not actually going to be marrying her right now. I'd rather dive head first into the fireplace.

"Jasper, son," father says, his tone deep.

Miss London turns around to face us, and I have to admit she's pretty. Not breathtakingly so, but she has a classic simple beauty about her features.

"It's my pleasure to introduce Miss London Devine to you, as your newly betrothed."

I step closer to London, taking her hand and kissing the back of it.

"Miss London. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

She curtsies to me, her delicate fingers clutching the side of her billowy dress.

"The pleasure is mine, Mr Capullo."

Her saying that formal greeting stabs my insides. I hate being called ‘Mr'. It makes me feel like I'm my father, old and callous.

"Please if it's allowed I wish you to address me as Jasper." She nods at me, glancing a moment at Father who nods firmly, responding, "Allowed."

"As you wish, Jasper. You may call me London." I realise I'm still holding her hand, so I kiss it again.

"Are you ready to attend tonight's affair?"

"Most indeed, Jasper."

Still holding her hand, I lead her out of the parlour, and out to the limousine parked outside to take us to the party.

The chauffeur is holding the door open, and I continue holding London's hand as she slides inside before I follow.

She sighs, the door closing behind us.

"Thank goodness that's over," she muses, sighing again and smoothing the fabric of her dress over her thighs.

"Can I be frank with you London?"

"Of course Jasper."

"We won't be marrying."

She sighs again. "Thank goodness. I'm only here to appease my parents. I have a lover back in Hastings."

"Glad we're on the same page. Appease the parents for the night, and say we don't feel we're a suitable match."

"Sounds like a plan. Do you have a lover?"

Her choice of words–lover–strikes me as odd. It's formal, and not something someone our age usually says.

"No, I'm not seeing anyone. Not really interested in having a girlfriend."

"Oh, I"m not interested in a boyfriend either. Nadin is just a means to gain a release whilst dealing with the farce of my parents playing matchmakers."

I fall forward with the car stopping abruptly. My hands stop on her thighs.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to."

"It's ok. You may touch and kiss me as needed."

"I won't be doing anything like kisses."

"Oh, ok. Are you repulsed by me?"

"No, but you have someone in your life who you're involved with, and honestly I'm not interested in anything like that now. It's not you at all. I think you're pretty."

"Noted, you're not attracted to me."

"Exactly. Let's just try to enjoy the party, dance a little and move on."

She nods, and I take her hand again to help her out of the limo now that we've arrived at the party.

I can only hope this night is over quickly, and I can get back to the dorms. At least when I'm at university I'm free to be myself.