I wrinkled my face in disgust as the sight of my reflection in the mirror the following Saturday morning.

My parents – as well as the club’s dress code – were advocators of formal wear whenever we attended brunch and hence, I had to follow the status quo. Unfortunately, that meant parading around in some ridiculous blue Ralph Lauren polo paired with tan khakis. The only thing that remained of my signature wardrobe were the black shoes I wore, though I would’ve preferred my 1460 Dr. Martens instead of the dress lace-ups on my feet.

“Dakota!” Mum’s voice floated up the stairs. “Are you ready yet? We’re going to be late.”

How could one be late to brunch? Wasn’t the whole point to skip breakfast?

I left my bedroom, pulling on the cuffs of my blazer as I descended the stairs. “Remind me again why I have to wear this thing?”

Mum looked up from where she was adjusting her earring in the hallway mirror. She wore a classic off-white dress that sat just below her knees. Her dark brown waves had been straightened and hung elegantly down her back. “You know the Cadwallon Club has a very strict dress code. Besides, I think you look very handsome.”

“Handsome must mean not being able to breathe.”

“What do you think beauty meant for women in past centuries? You’ll survive for one afternoon, love.”

I opened my mouth to reply when there was movement in my left peripherals. Dad entered the foyer, dressed simply but professionally in a blue suit. He wore no tie given that it was a weekend, but it was clear the crisp material of his clothing had been ironed beforehand.

Dad kissed Mum on the cheek before turning to me. “Dakota. We’ve been waiting for the past fifteen minutes.”

“That’s how long it took me to put on these damn pants you insisted I wear.”

Dad scowled. “The club has a policy. You will abide by their standards and look presentable when in attendance.”

“I wouldn’t have to be in attendance if you didn’t force me to come to this ridiculous business meeting on a weekend. Why do I have to go?”

Dad opened his mouth to respond when Mum cut him off. “Keegan is going. Don’t you want to see your friend?”

“I see him five days a week. Plus, we could’ve actually been doing something fun if he and Quinton were to come here instead of there.”

“Dakota,” Dad said, his voice low in warning. “You know why your presence is requested.”

“Requested or forced?”

“We’re running late.” Mum said, neatly interjecting once more before my lack of filter could liven the wire on Dad’s annoyance. She began moving toward the front door. “Reece, shall we?”

Dad sent me another look before following after his wife. With a groan, I shook out my shoulders and followed after my parents.

***

The Cadwallon Club was a forty-minute drive out of town. Pulling up through iron gates, my gaze was immediately assaulted with manicured lawns and pretentious water fountains.

Dad pulled the car around to the main entrance. Mum got out but before I could slip out the door, Dad said, “Dakota, a moment.”

I shut my door slowly, fixing him with a blank stare.

“The real reason this brunch is being held today isn’t about another investor.” Dad started. “We’re meeting the couple behind a very successful international trading company founded in France. Mortenson Trading Co. Their aeronautic transportations have even been exported here for NASA’s use.”

My voice was laced with heavy sarcasm. “So, they’re the real deal then.”

“Precisely, which is why we must be formal and presentable. You’re a part of this family. You are expected to represent the Anderson name with dignity.”

I cocked my head. “What exactly do I get out of this deal?”

Dad blinked. “Pardon?”

I made a gesture as if searching for the right words. “What’s in it for me to sit at your high-end table and make small talk about French exportation services and the Champagne wine region? Surely you need me here for a reason, right?”

Dad’s brow furrowed. “What’s in it for you, Dakota, is a roof over your head and all that comes with the luxurious lifestyle you are so content to bask in on any given day. You would do well to remember where the life you lead comes from.”

“You think I care about the money?”

“Your mother and I work hard every day of our lives to afford you all the things we didn’t have growing up. Since I’ve never heard a word of gratitude from you, I will take your actions instead.”

“And what exactly are my actions here?”

I knew the answer. I wanted him to say it.

Surprisingly, Dad looked hesitant. His gaze flitted ever so slightly from mine before he found his answer, eventually saying, “The Mortenson’s have a daughter. It’d be nice if you bonded with her.”

“Bond or date?”

“Dakota,” Dad growled, “all I’m asking is that you make conversation with her at brunch. Their family only just moved here. They don’t know anyone yet.”

“Yeah, sure. That’s the reason.”

Dad said nothing else. Climbing out of our SUV, he handed the keys to a waiting valet. I climbed out my side and followed Dad to where Mum was waiting by the entrance.

My parents were greeted by numerous members of the staff as we walked through the main building. The manager, who was on a first name basis with my parents, escorted us to the large balcony overlooking the golf course where brunch would take place.

Keegan’s family were already seated when we arrived. As Dante, Keegan’s dad, was my parents’ lawyer, it wasn’t uncommon to share outings with the Paxton’s.

Dante, rose as we approached. Keegan was a spitting image of him, only his sandy blonde hair wasn’t peppered with grey streaks.

“Reece,” Dante smiled, “so glad you could make it. Martha, you’re looking lovely as always. Dakota,” He beamed at me, clapping one hand against my shoulder as the other shook my hand, “that was some nice footwork at the game Thursday night! Well done, son!’

A swell of pride bloomed in my chest. Dante had always been like a surrogate father to me since Keegan and I met in kindergarten.

They were the words I’d always dreamed of hearing, only they were coming from the wrong mouth.

I schooled my disappointment with a toothy grin. “Thanks. The Catamounts’ sense of teamwork has been embarrassingly depressive since my first year as Captain. It wasn’t hard to exploit.”

Dante laughed. “A man who knows what he wants. You’ll go far with a skill like that.”

We took our seats. I collapsed into the chair beside Keegan, who lightly punched my arm in lieu of a greeting, before noting the three vacant chairs. “So, when are the supposed ‘fancy people’ getting here?”

Dad glanced down at his Waltham. “They should be arriving any mom-ah. Speak of the devil.”

Three people had just exited the French doors leading onto the balcony, weaving their way through tables until they reached ours. The man and woman carried their heads high, the air of confidence thicker than the smell of Brandy in the gentlemen’s lounge.

Much like my own parents, the couple were dressed in accordance with the club’s dress code. The man wore a white blazer with matching slacks while the morning breeze caused the woman’s blue dress to softly billow behind her as she walked.

Only when they reached our table did the last person come into view. Then, I had to physically make the effort to stop my jaw from hitting the floor.

Dressed in tennis whites, paired elegantly with a Louis Vuitton sweater tied around her shoulders, was the most beautiful girl I’d ever set eyes on, all brown eyes and dark curls and red lips shadowed against creamy skin. She briefly met my gaze before looking away.

Dad stood in a fashion much like Dante had moments before and offered the man a wide smile. “John! Lovely to see you again, thanks for coming. This must be your wife.”

The man shook Dad’s hand in greeting before turning to the women beside him with a warm smile. “Reece, my pleasure. Please allow me to introduce my wife, Katherine, and my daughter, Esmeralda Mortenson.”

Katherine stepped forward to greet the table, her husband’s hand resting on the small of her back. Her curls were styled the same way as her daughter’s, and she laughed gently as they fell across her face in the summertime breeze. John watched as his wife fixed her hair, smiling like she was pure sunshine herself.

Dad gestured to the rest of the table. “Of course, you already know Dante, Aisha and their son, Keegan. This is my wife, Martha, and my son, Dakota.” Dad’s stare lingered a moment on me before I got the hint.

Rising from my chair, I plastered on a fake smile and shook John’s hand. “It’s great to meet you, sir.”

“And you,” John’s handshake was firm. “You boys attend Ridgemount Academy, is that correct?” His snaked an arm around his daughter’s shoulders on the left, “Esme here just started at St Jude’s.”

Keegan snorted but I coughed to cover up the sound. “Oh, uh, the all-girls school in the city?”

Finally, finally, the girl – Esme’s – eyes met mine again. A smile bloomed across her sharp features and I felt myself caught in a wildfire at the sight.

“That’s the one.” she said, voice a pitch or two lower than I’d expected with the hint of a French accent. “The first American school I’ve attended.”

“How do you like it?”

“It’s quite different to the schools in France,” she said, “we don’t normally wear uniforms but I like the ones at St Jude’s. They’re very chic.”

John and Katherine were taking their seats opposite my parents. Rounding the table, I offer a hand to Esme. “We haven’t officially met. I’m Dakota, and that sorry excuse of a human over there is Keegan.”

She took my hand. “Esme. It’s a pleasure.” She turned to Keegan, smiling kindly, “I like your shoes.”

Keegan scrambled to uncross his legs and rise to his feet. “Thanks! They’re Limited Edition Nikes.”

‘Fancy dress’ and ‘Keegan’ didn’t exactly fit into the same sentence.

Pulling out the gentlemen card, I drew back Esme’s chair. “Please.”

She laughed softly. “How kind. Thankyou.”

A waiter appeared a moment later to place two pitchers of water on the table before disappearing again. Dad met my eye from further up the table. Resisting the urge to sigh, I reached out and gripped the handle, offering the pitcher in Esme’s direction. “Water?”

“Thankyou.”

Two more waiters appeared in a flurry of blue and white. Our orders are taken quickly before a pitcher of Mimosas are set down on the table. The adults make quick use of their champagne flutes, settling into business discussion that I had no interest in being a part of.

Keegan was busy texting on his phone beneath the table so I turned my attention to Esme, taking a moment of appreciate her beauty.

Whether it was French genetics or merely the way she carried herself like a cloud, Esme was absolutely stunning. Her fair skin was free of noticeable blemishes and her nails were freshly manicured. Her makeup was minimal, designed to enhance long eyelashes and high cheekbones without being excessive. The white tennis dress she wore hugged a straight figure, long enough to adhere to the club’s dress code but short enough to reveal miles of toned leg muscles. Perhaps she was a swimmer.

“So, Esme,” I said, shooting a glance toward our parents in deep discussion, “how long are you in town for?”

Esme followed my gaze. “I’m not sure yet. Father’s business is looking at expanding their international reach. Depending on how today goes, my thinking is that they’re looking at a permanent situation.”

I knew Dad would be pleased to hear as much. “Have you been to Melbourne before?”

Esme shook her head. “We’ve moved around a lot since I was a girl. I grew up in Normandy but had already lived in three different countries by the time I was eleven. Mother and Father wanted me to have a stable homelife to complete my senior year so we’re renting a house in Camberwell.”

“Your parents own Mortensen Trading Co, right?”

“Yes. They’re hoping to open an Australian branch by the end of next year.”

“Have you made any friends at school yet?”

“There are some lovely girls in my grade. Unfortunately, there’s little reason to become close with people until I know how long we’ll be in town.”

“Fair point.”

Esme leaned forward, one arm resting on the table. “Tell me about you. Where do you go to school?”

“Ridgemount. It’s like the boys version of St Jude’s.”

“Do you like it there?”

Keegan barked out a laugh. “It’d be hard not to with all the attention this guy receives.”

I elbowed him in the gut under the table. Keegan coughed roughly, stifling a wheeze. “Dude, the hell? I’m just telling it how it is.”

“It’s pretty good.” I told Esme. “The hours are long and uniforms kind of suck but captaining our soccer team makes it all worth it.”

“Oh!” Esme’s eyes widened, accent peaking as she said, “You play soccer?”

“Play?” Keegan practically rolls his eyes, “Dude’s like a tyrant on the field.”

“I don’t hear you complaining with how often we win.”

He grinned. “Touché.”

I turned back to Esme. “What do you like to do for fun?”

“I’m a competitive show jumper,” she said, eyes lighting up, “one of the perks of moving around so much is that I get to compete in shows all over the world.”

“Is that what you want to do when you’re older?” I asked. “Compete on horses? You could ride in the Olympics or something.”

Esme cocked her head, frowning as though I’d just told her I had two heads. “No, I’m the same as you.”

She didn’t look like an extremely competitive, slightly narcissistic jock who liked to provoke boys they wanted to kiss and punch at the same time, but who was I to judge?

“What do you mean?”

Her brows furrowed deeper. “I’ll take over my parents company one day, just like you-“

Plates of food were set down and the conversation died as the waiters reappeared. Everybody became busy with sorting out the orders and I never got to hear the end of Esme’s sentence.

When the waiters disappeared, Esme was gazing at Keegan. “Do you play soccer too?”

Keegan hurried to swallow a bite of food, nodding animatedly. “Yes, uh, I play with Dakota and our other friend, Quinton.”

“That’s nice.” Esme glanced back at me. “I’ve never seen a soccer game before. I can’t imagine how it’s played.”

“Have you ever played FIFA?”

Esme blinked.

Keegan laughed under his breath. I managed to refrain from kicking him under the table, backtracking quickly. “Well, uh, as long as you’re in town, you’re welcome to come to one of our games, watch us smash the other teams dumb enough to think they can beat us.”

Esme laughed. “You’re very confident.” Then, “That’s very kind of you. I’d love to come and see one of your matches. If you play as well as you say you do, I have a lot to look forward to.”

“Oh God.” Keegan groaned to my left.

My smirk was already at full capacity. “I guess you do.”

Maybe I had to give Dad a little credit. For all the times he’d set me up with girls for business purposes, Esme seemed different.

She was funny and worldly and actually took an interest in the things that I enjoyed. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had shown me attention without the implications of popularity riding in the footnotes of the fine print.

Maybe I wouldn’t date Esme, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t be her friend.