I nod my head curtly and lead the way into the living room. The guards follow every step of the way, and for the first time, I am actually quite glad of it. However, once we reach the living room, he motions for the guards to stay outside.
“We have our orders, sir.”
“And what the fuck do you think I’m going to do in here?” he bellows. “Drake is my son, and this is going to be my daughter soon. I would like some fucking privacy.”
He’s so angry that I can feel the fear creep up my spine. I see the guards looking at Sebastian and then at me.
“Look, if it makes you feel any better, I’ll leave the door ajar. Would that fucking suffice?”
“I’m going to have to let Drake know,” the guard says.
“Let him know whatever the fuck you like.” He then pushes the door violently until it slams shut. He turns and I notice that the guard opens the door again and leaves it ajar. At least I know they’re out there if I need them.
Sebastian walks towards me and motions for me to sit down. I do so, and he helps himself to a brandy from one of the decanters before sitting opposite me.
He studies me for a moment as his clearly evil eyes assess me from head to toe. It makes me uncomfortable. I want to leave, but I know he won’t let me go in a hurry. The silence goes on for a while, and I wonder whether I should say something—anything—to break this awkward silence.
“Tell me, Evelyn. Are you well educated?”
Okay… A bit of a strange question, but I will answer nonetheless. “Yes. Why do you ask?” In fact, with my A-level results in biology, physics, and English, I have been hoping to start university next year with a focus on either English literature or psychology. It’s a bit of a wide range, but I’m hoping to figure it all out at some point. First of all, however, I need to figure out how to get out of the clutches of my mad fiancée.
“Why I ask doesn’t concern you.”
His stern voice makes my eyes widen. I thought Drake was bad. I suppose this is where he gets it from.
He takes a sip of his drink, seeming to compose himself before speaking. “You’ve known my son for a long time. How is your … relationship?”
I frown wondering why he asks me such a question. We’re engaged. Forcibly, but we are engaged. Shouldn’t he already know?
“I don’t understand your question.”
He shakes his head as if I annoy him. “For a girl who’s well educated, you sure have no common sense.”
I inhale sharply giving away my annoyance. He stares at me again as if assessing my movements, my actions, and my words. He’s assessing everything. It makes me angry that I feel under intense scrutiny.
“I have plenty of common sense. I just don’t understand where your questioning is going. Your son and I are engaged. How much more do you need to know?”
I see his jaw tick and instantly regret snapping at him. I’m angry he is prying into our relationship, but I’m also scared by his sinister, evil-looking eyes. He could probably send a man to Hell with those eyes.
He takes a deep breath, narrowing those evil eyes of his before speaking again. “I know you two are engaged, but I’m struggling right now. You see, I was led to believe that a very large amount of money was paid for you. Money that once belonged to me. Therefore, I think I have a fucking say in this relationship. I also think I deserve a bit more fucking respect.”
He leans forward, spitting the last sentence out. He wasn’t loud enough for the guards to hear, but the message he was trying to convey came across loud and clear.
With my heart thumping rapidly, I watch as he gets up, walks over to the decanter, and with his back to me, I believe he’s pouring another drink for himself. It’s only when he turns around that I see it’s an extra glass. He walks over to my seat and hands it to me. I shake my head. “It’s too early for that.”
His jaw clenches again. “It is not a request.”
On a sigh, I take it from him and watch as he takes a seat opposite me again. “I don’t know what the fuck my son has been doing with you. Obviously, the amount of time he’s spent with you thus far has made you into this … this insubordinate woman. Have you heard the expression ‘familiarity breeds contempt?’”
“Yes, and I can relate to that right now.”
Again, his jaw ticks. I don’t know why I’m pushing his buttons, but the way he’s speaking to me is like I’m a robot … like I should say and do everything I’m told. For some reason, the song “Sit Still, Look Pretty” by Daya pops into my head.
“Drink your drink, Evelyn. When Drake gets back, I feel we will have a lot to discuss. Some training wouldn’t go amiss for you.”