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that constantly needed attention.  Her resentment of that
fact darkened her pretty pale eyes and probably would have creased her brow,
had they had the liberty to do so.
    Sebastian
went on to introduce her to the other guests at the table.  Willow was
decidedly reserved when Sebastian introduced her as his date.
    “Charmed,”
Mrs. Brookes said at the introduction, though her facial expression was
anything but charmed.  Clearly, she echoed her daughter’s sentiment.
    Seated
immediately to Serena’s left was Michael who leaned his knee into hers while
Mr. and Mrs. Faris, introduced as close and dear friends of the family, rounded
out the rest of the table.
    Dinner
was served amidst financial conversation that Serena found tedious and old. 
Michael did try to strike up a conversation that veered away from finances, but
it always come back to the table.  It seemed every topic came back to money. 
It sometimes began with art, but turned to the value of a Picasso.  It
sometimes began with a family vacation, but ultimately turned into an
evaluation of this hotel, that cruise line or that exclusive boutique.
    No
matter how or where the conversation began, someone found a way to bring it
back to money. How to make more.  How to spend more.  How to have more. Some
didn’t even bother disguising the discussion beneath anything else.  They just
came straight out and talked dollars and cents.  While some lightly discussed
wasting hundreds of thousands on some convoluted venture, others took to heart
the thousands of dollars they’d put down on their dress, or their car, or their
home.
    “Are
you enjoying your meal?” Sebastian said when he was finally able to tear away
from his mother and pay some attention to Serena.  He draped his arm on the
back of her chair and leaned in close.
    “Absolutely.”
She’d tried to ignore the sprinkling of words she’d picked up between him and
his mother, but some of the words she’d overheard hurt her more than she cared
to admit.  Far from talking about money, Marika seemed obsessed with
Sebastian’s future, namely his future with her.  On more than one occasion she
was referred to as, ‘that girl,’ and she thought she’d heard the term
‘commoner’ used to describe her.
    Soothing
those hurt feelings, however, was Sebastian’s touch.  The heat of his fingers
as they drew a line across her bare shoulder was nothing compared to the heat
of his gaze.  For a brief instance, the room around them disappeared and she
was alone with him.  The heat became suffocating as his gaze intensified.
    A
waiter came around them and offered more wine, breaking the private and all too
brief interlude.
    “My
mother insists on having the best chefs in her kitchen,” he said after clearing
his throat.
    “It’s
understandable.  With the crowd here, you don’t want to just serve them
something average and mundane.”
    “Taking
my mother’s defense. How admirable.”  He grinned.
    “Is
it just me, or do I sense a bit of tension between you and your mother?”
    “If
you look closely, you’ll probably see there’s a lot of tension between my
mother and just about everyone in this room.”
    “That’s
a little harsh.”
    “That’s
the truth.  As loving and kind as she can sometimes be, the demands of the role
she has chosen to play among the obscenely rich sometimes takes its toll.  I
think much of it has whittled away the warm, compassionate woman she once was
and has left a cold and calculating one in its place.”
    “Ouch,”
was all Serena could say.  Saddened by his assessment of his own mother, she
looked at him and wondered how he’d managed to come out unscathed by it all.
    “Are
you close to your parents?” he asked.
    The
workings of her fork on her plate suddenly took all her attention.  She pushed
the food around her plate a moment and swallowed the ball of emotion.  She was
more than willing to talk about him and his family, but was reluctant to open
up about