I take the fastest shower ever and jump into my assignment.
Timothy knocks on my door, pulling me from a textbook and I look at the time. Fuck, I’m going to be late. Grabbing the dress pants and top I pulled out after my shower, I quickly get dressed and bolt downstairs.
I enter the dining room at exactly seven. My father is in the corner talking to a man and drinking scotch. There is a young woman alone at the table and she seems bored. I walk over to her and instantly know that she’s trouble. Her gray eyes eat me up as I move, and she watches me like a predator would their prey.
I give her a friendly smile and she returns it with white gleaming teeth. She’s pretty in that Stepford wives kind of way. Iced blonde hair, pristine makeup, and a dress that shows just enough to tempt a man, but not think she’s slutty.
She’s the complete opposite of my rabbit, and for that I’m thankful. I love that Patience is real. She doesn’t need plastic surgery, or to cake on makeup. She will eat a pound of hot wings and not care that sauce is dripping down her chin. Or roll around in the dirt playing tag or flag football with the guys.
She’s perfect, and she’s all mine, well…ours.
“Hi, I’m Silvia,” the girl says once I take my seat at the table. I turn and offer her my hand, ignoring the chill of her palm.
“Nate, it’s nice to meet you,” I grumble, then clear my throat. She bats her eyelashes at me and I try really hard to make conversation with her, but quickly learn just to let her talk about herself.
She’s a drama major at Juilliard and wants to be an actress. Her father is a business man in New York, and met my father last year during some convention. She was supposed to be in the Hamptons this weekend, but her ‘Daddy’ dragged her here, and she’s not happy about it.
I nod at the appropriate times, and sigh with relief when the staff starts bringing our plates. Our fathers take their seats and dig in. I almost have the perfect slice of a medium rare steak to my lips when Silvia screeches and her plate shatters across the room. I drop my fork and look at her in horror.
Her eye makeup is running down her face and she's sobbing. I glance at her father and he looks ready to throttle her.
“Silvia Marie, you know better,” he growls and she drops her head. “I’m sorry Nixen, my daughter is one for dramatics.”
“But, daddy, I told you I'm a vegetarian. How could you eat a helpless cow?” she sobs with a sniffle, then looks at me with disgust. I shrug and take a bite, ignoring the theatrics.
Dinner quickly ends after that and Silvia and her father leave. I’m about to excuse myself when my father talks.
“Though she is eccentric, what did you think of Silvia? She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” I nod to get him to end whatever discussion he’s trying to make. I just want to go check on my girl.
“Good, I’m glad you think so. She will make a wonderful wife…” I cut him off.
“What?! I am not marrying Silvia,” I growl and push back my chair. I watch as he grips his steak knife tighter.
“You will do what you are told, Nathaniel. Your brother is marrying Patience James, and you will marry Silvia. Two fine women to help expand the business and our families.” I stand and slam my palms onto the table, making the china clatter.
“I will never marry that wretched woman. If this is the only reason you wanted me to come home, then I will leave and go back to England. I am not some pawn you can call upon when you need something. I am your son.” He blinks at me and gives me a nasty smile. I know he has some cutting remark for me, but I’m not going to stay and hear it. I turn and storm out of the room.
He is out of his fucking mind.
I leave through the kitchen door and walk over to Patience’s house. Since the wedding announcement, my father has left the gates open that once separated our properties. I peek in at Patience baking something, then knock on the back door. She jumps, tossing flour everywhere, then waves me in.
“What are you doing?” I ask as I enter the kitchen. She gives me a big smile and walks over to kiss me.
“I thought about making lemon bars. I didn’t know you were stopping by tonight,” she says then moves back to her lemons. Picking one up she starts to zest it into a bowl, then cuts it in half and squeezes the juice into a weird bowl that has a juicer on the top.
I groan and move up behind her, wrapping my arms tight around her. “I love lemon bars. I haven’t had them since Alla was here,” I say and she sighs, relaxing into me.
“We used to make them together. I guess I’m feeling nostalgic tonight. I remember we would have them almost every week. I haven’t made them in a long time.”
“How about you teach me?” I say, releasing her and grabbing the other lemon. She drops the zester and turns to give me a kiss.
“I’d love that, but first wash your hands and grab me the flour.” I give her one more kiss, then turn around to the sink, quickly washing my hands, then search for what she needs.
She starts to make the crust, and I can’t help but flick some flour in her face. She seems so serious when she concentrates, and the small crease above her eyebrow makes me want to kiss it.
“What are you doing?” she squeals, looking at me like I’m crazy. I shrug and go back to measuring the sugar. A wet glob of dough lands on my cheek and I fake gasp in horror. She giggles, looks at me for a minute then darts to the other side of the kitchen.
Oh, it’s on. I chase after her and grab her around the waist. She squirms and tries to get away, but I’m not letting her go.