Our ride to the dinner was bumpy and we almost didn't make it there. Rory kept stealing glances all the way and even though I'd asked him to stay focus because he might hit someone, he ignored and kept glances at me so I decided to move to the back seat even though Rory protested against it and that was where I stayed till we arrived where we were being awaited. When we arrived, I tried to get down along with Rory, but the car was locked and so I have been trying for the last two minutes.
"Come on!" I groan, clearly frustrated and annoyed at nobody in particular and then it hit me. Shouldn't Rory have noticed my absence or is he planning on going into the house alone... Or...
Son of a bitch locked me here for fun!
I bang harder on the car door as my fear of close and dark space begins to take over. I struggle harder trying to get out to no avail and finally, the door open after the car beep and Rory appears, grinning widely at his wicked craftiness. My hands ball into fists in fury and my cheeks heat and as much as it causes excitement to see him, his games get me in a scared and furious mode.
"You!" I throw my fist at him surprising myself, but he catches and kisses my fist and over my knuckles 'till I'm forced to release my fist and he covers my palm with tender and passionate kisses also. I bite hard on my lower lips, trying to ignore how delicately soft his lips are on my palm and how his tender caress is affecting the rest of my body.
"I got scared," I admit, with a low voice even as he did his trick on my hand.
"Why?"
"I developed a stupid fear of closed and dark space when I was with Toby. He would normally lock me up for days," I admit sadly.
He cups my cheeks in his hands, his deep green eyes, piercing into my blue ones. "I'm sorry." His apology, I find genuine so I nod. "I won't do it again." he grins and catches my lips between his and kisses me slowly.
"Stop." I push him away and he goes back to my hand.
"Something tells me you like this better."
The only reason I don't answer yes is because I am biting on my upper lip. "We won't make it inside if you keep this up you know," I say between gasp as he slid my finger into his mouth and suck slowly on it.
"Sounds like a good idea."
I roll my eyes partly in mild anger and partly because of what he's doing with my fingers. "That wasn't the plan. And I want my hand back now thank you." I draw away to both of our loss.
I clean my finger on his shirt and he chuckles lightly, before taking my hand and leading me away from the car. I stumble against him as I walk and he quickly grabs hold of my waist.
"Oh, I'm sorry." I apologize as I realise that I'd clumsily-mistakenly steps on him while I was tumbling down.
"Still so childish." He murmurs underneath his breath and I glare at him on hearing it. He touches my nose with his finger. "Sometimes you act so childishly and I have to tell myself it's because you're still so young."
My nose scrunches up and my eyes raise defiantly. "I'm not so young dummy," my attempt to mimic his voice fails miserably. "you make it seem like I'm sixteen. Don't you dare try to forget that I'll be twenty-two in few months." I point out, already having my argument ready. Of course, I'll be twenty-two in seven month time... That's only if you would call seven months few.
He pulls me closer when I say this as we walk. "I'll be thirty in a month." He counters, trying to prove his point to me and I sneak a peek at him. He doesn't look his age and if I was to guess I would have said about twenty-five or twenty-six. I guess it's because he doesn't act so mature on his part. "You're still so young and I forget that most times."
"Well, you should forget that I am," I say briskly. "'Cause I don't go around trying to remember your age."
"I know, love. Did I ever tell you my story is like the prodigal son?" He asks in a quick thought and changing the subject.
"No." I shake my head, "but something tells me you are gonna tell me now."
I don't miss the few almost chuckles he makes, "Well if you know the prodigal son's story, then you know mine; only I haven't run broke yet."
"Well, I know about your excessive spending, and I've also heard your playboy attitude. In fact, the rumours then were that you were being forced to marry Paris because of that reason."
Something twitches in his deep green eyes and his lips go into a grim line and he holds my waist tightly. "Never knew you listen to rumours."
My cheeks grow warm. "Most times I can't help it."
"I know, but so you know, not everything the paparazzi and people say is the truth." He opens the door and we walk into the house.
I'll try not to forget.
The young maid in short, cute, black lace with short, blonde hair welcomes us. Rory nod formally at her and I smile at her and we follow her. She leads us through the massive and luxuriously furnished living room and as my eyes looks around the room and getting a better understanding of where I am.
I'm in the territory of the rich and just not the rich, but the rich that carries their selves rich and the rich that do not like me very much. Fear and panic seize my heart and it begins to pound so heavily I fear it might explode or worse Rory might hear it. Rory fingers lace in my mind almost immediately as we approach the dining room like her can hear my thought and I look up at him. He smiles at me reassuringly and whispered I love you.
We walk to the dining table where there are seated Rory's families. An older man probably in his late sixties or and sitting by his side is the woman whose image has hunted me in my dreams the past week. And there's a lady seated on the side of the table, pretty and looking very preserved. She shares a resemblance with Rory with her brown hair that reaches over her shoulder, but judging from her eye, I know she's older than Rory by a couple of years.
They all look at us as we walk closer and an unmistakable surprise registers on all their faces and I don't dare to miss the hard hateful look the woman throws at me before jumping to her feet and running to her son.
"What is wrong with you?! Why is she here and why are the two of you dressed in this manner?" She yells in horror and her eyes don't hide the intense dislike or aversion or abhorrence towards us -me.
"What's she doing here, Rory?" asks the lady I place as Rory older sister in a harsh bitter.
"She's here for dinner," he replies as if he doesn't get the meaning of her question or maybe he doesn't. "Good to see you too, Jennifer." He smiles at her, even though the smile doesn't reach his eyes.
Why do I feel like he's not in the best relationship with his elder sister?
"That's the problem, she was not invited, Paris was." The woman standing before us exclaims, her facial expression gets even more ridiculous with every word she utters.
"But I was invited." He replies, nonchalantly, not in any way moved by the voltage of their voices. "So that means she is also invited."
"As what?" the lady called Jennifer asks challengingly, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back on her sit. "Your mistress?"
I feel like ice water has been poured all over me as she says those words and I shiver internally and my gaze lower to the floor and I immediately regretted coming over for the dinner. Rory was right the dinner indeed is a disaster. A part of my mind scolds me for not speaking up or standing my ground, but I just don't want Rory feeling like I can't handle a little heat.
It's not called a 'little heat' Taylor, it called hell.
"No," Rory replies, breaking the voices in my head. "No, Jennifer, I'm not going to do to her what Adam Said did to you." Pain mixed with anger flashes in her eyes when Rory shoves these harsh words back at her and doesn't say any other thing. "and I brought her here as my fiancée."