The Glass Prince Read Online Free Page A

turned to
throw it away. No one expected him to show up, what was the use of
sending him all the invitations in the first place?
    Then he
was struck by an inspiration . What if he were to go there and surprise
everyone?
    It was
a well-known fact Daniel
Everwood did not do public appearances. He didn't do charity
dinners, though he sometimes contributed—it was a good tax
write-off—and he certainly did not attend any of those important
public gatherings. The only time he ever went anywhere was to the
Mage Guild meeting with Lucian and it was only so he could show all
those stuck-up asses he was still alive and kicking up glass. It
really wasn't a guild. It was more like a place where overly rich
mages got together to show off their wealth to each other and the
media. They also showed off how well they'd aged, or not aged,
depending on the occasion, and did flashy magic tricks while trying
to appear overly casual about the extent of their magic by uttering
phrases like, "What, fly to work? I do it every day."
    " I should go to
this," Daniel said thoughtfully. "They'll shit their pants when
they see me."
    Suddenly, he felt his mood light en and he stood with a laugh. "I'll scare the crap
out of everybody."
     
    *~*~*
     
    As
expected , the owner of
the Royal Mall hadn't expected Daniel Everwood to show up to the
opening. The guests of honour were Rae Weslin, an actor from
overseas—Daniel couldn't remember where, and who had an accent
which Daniel personally found annoying, but apparently everyone
else loved—and his wife, Tina Weslin, owner of a rather successful
art gallery. They'd even brought their two-year-old daughter with
them. Daniel assumed they were too cheap to hire a babysitter for
the occasion.
    They
both looked rather nonplussed when Daniel strode up to them. They might have
been the ones to officially cut the ribbon, but it was Daniel the
press wanted to photograph. It was rather amusing. He took some
satisfaction in knowing he could upstage someone just by walking
in.
    There
was a rush for people to get things ready for hi m, find a place for him to sit that was
well away from the nervous VIP guests, and to get him actual plates
to serve on. People at the food court apparently ate from tacky,
hard-plastic everything: plates, cutlery, serving dishes. The
manager of the food court, a tall, pleasant-looking blonde in a
tight skirt and white shirt with the mall logo embossed on her
lapel, rushed to him.
    " It's a great
honour that you've decided to come here," she said, only a little
breathlessly.
    Daniel
gave her points for retaining her composure , and wondered if there was a way to lure
her to his restaurant.
    " I had to come.
I'm in the food industry myself and I like to see what my
competition is like." The blonde coloured, probably taking his
words for the insult it was.
    " The
photographer for the All Publicity is over there," she pointed to
him. "The press was asked to allow the guests to eat in peace, but
they might approach you. If someone bothers you, please let me
know."
    Daniel
was used to the press and knew how to handle them. After all, he owned and
single-handedly ran Alaskan Tower, the city's, no, the country's
most expensive restaurant, located in the base of the glass tower
in which he lived. A mere food court such as this was hardly
competition, but it was fun. Daniel looked around with a smirk.
There were all sorts of people: families in flip-flops and kids
with balloons, all so colourful and alien to him. They were all
staring at him with open curiosity, but no one was bold enough to
approach. His reputation as someone who occasionally threw glass
arrows deterred even the boldest.
    It was
so different from the Alaskan Tower . He fixed his eyes on a couple of children
playing around underfoot and grimaced. His restaurant was full of
well-dressed people who spoke in low voices and ordered in French.
They never brought any children, unless they could sit quietly in
their chairs without spilling