Silverware clinked against porcelain. Water was poured into two glasses.
A few minutes ago, the housekeeper had left and Beatrice was finally at ease.
But, she usually left after preparing lunch. And now she was stuck with stir fry and caesar salad.
Weird combo, but Nathaniel seemed to like it.
She sat at the island, picking at her food silently.
The man noticed, and decided it was the best time to pass another infuriating remark.
"Looks like the princess doesn't like chinese."
She shot him a dirty look. "No, I just don't like my chinese rice paired with italian salads."
He rolled his eyes, "I asked Lilith to make it. Problem?"
"Yes, very big. Here, I was expecting you'd have one heck of an expensive palate. But, boy, was I wrong."
He waved his fork around like a spear, "Don't insult my culinary choices, you unripe banana."
The room went silent.
Suddenly, Beatrice burst out laughing.
"Unripe banana? What kind of insult is that?!"
For a full minute, she just wheezed her lungs flat while Nathaniel glared daggers at her.
"You belong in an asylum." he muttered under his breath.
She caught that.
"And you belong in a damn zoo, you uncivilized ape."
"Just, shut up for once, woman." he pinched the bridge of his nose.
She bit back a laugh, "As if you're the gentleman here."
He sighed, but didn't reply.
The room went quiet once again, the same awkward silence stretching.
A while later, they both decided it was the best time to speak.
"Could you-"
"We have-"
They froze.
Beatrice blinked. Nathan grumbled something about sharing a brain cell.
He cleared his throat. "Ladies first."
"Oh, please. We don't do misogyny here."
He raised a brow, "Oh? When did you get to decide the rules?"
She slapped her forehead, "You don't have to turn every word into a goddamn argument, you idiot. Now, what were you saying?"
His jaw tightened, a vulgar insult on the tip of his tongue. But once again, he chose peace and continued calmly.
"I-... We, I mean," he corrected, the word unfamiliar on his lips, "have been invited. To a party. Sort of."
She tilted her head. "And? How does this concern me?"
He cleared his throat, "Well, if it were any other relative, I would've turned them down before they even opened their mouth to invite me. But…"
"But…?"
Nathaniel scratched his cheek, "It's… a few friends of mine."
"You have friends?"
He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. "One more word-"
She laughed again.
"And what?"
His hands tightened into fists, "You don't want to find out."
She scoffed, "Try me, bitch."
They just stared at each other like two apex predators.
A minute later, Beatrice finally realized how absolutely childish they looked, and sighed, raising her hands in surrender.
"Take a chill pill, I'm not going to say anything."
He narrowed his eyes, but lowered his guard too. "Thank you, for being a little less irritating."
Before she could insult him again, he completed his earlier statement.
"Ahem. As I was saying, my friends invited me to their place. I can't say no, because they'll raid my house the next day."
She hummed, preparing for another retort. "And who is this… friend?"
"Henry. He invited us, and he was at the wedding too. You remember the crazy bastard?"
Beatrice made a soft sound.
The redhead who insisted on carrying the groom, bridal style. He smeared cake all over his face and hair, and tossed Nathan's expensive shoes into the bushes.
He also kept calling Beatrice 'Mrs. Victor' like a drunkard. Beatrice had laughed, despite herself, since the guy seemed to have no weird intention.
"Yeah, I remember him. He's cool." she mumbled absentmindedly.
"Not just him though. A few more people. I couldn't invite them, so they want to see yo- me."
She hummed. "Alright, fine. When's it?"
"...Tomorrow."
. . .
The same, deep red Aston Martin.
Last time, she only observed it. This time, she had to ride in it.
At first, she went straight for the back seat. But her hand only came into contact with the smooth door when Nathaniel raised an accusatory brow.
"What?"
"The backseat? Seriously?"
Her brows furrowed, "Why? There's nothing wro-"
"Get your ass in the passenger seat." he snapped, patience wearing thin.
Her jaw clenched, "Who the f-"
"Passenger seat. Now."
Her eye twitched. "Fine, asshole."
The door slammed shut after Nathaniel, and once again when Beatrice got in.
The engine revved. It would've screamed 'I'm rich as fuck' if it had a mouth.
The interior smelled… familiar.
Christmas and hot cocoa.
The woman shook her head, shrinking back into her seat.
Get a grip, Beatrice.
Nathaniel was driving calmly, eyes glued to the road. His Rolex caught the light as he turned the wheel, and a ring shone on his finger.
He sported a waistcoat and dresspants, hair slicked back like normal.
The only sounds in the car were of the engine, and the occasional beeping of a horn.
Beatrice was taking up as little space as possible, leaving almost a fourth of her seat empty. Similarly, Nathaniel kept his long legs to himself, hand resting on his thigh instead of his side.
In a while, a large Manor came into view. Even more flashy and luxurious than the Woode Manor.
The woman couldn't help but stare.
A moment later, the car stopped in the garage, the consistent hum gradually subsiding.
Nathaniel finally looked to his side.
"Shall we, dearest wife?" a smirk tugged at his lips.
Beatrice narrowed her eyes, "Absolutely, honey."
He barked a laugh.
"Creative."
. . .
"Yoooo!"
Nathaniel was tackled into a hug the minute he stepped into the garden.
"Back-" he choked, "Back off, moron!"
Henry pulled back to pinch at his cheeks. "Awh, someone's forgotten us already, now that he's gotten married and all!"
Suddenly, he remembered the man was married. He glanced around, and caught sight of Nathaniel's wife.
"Ayo, Mrs. Victor!" he shoved Nathan aside, the poor guy stumbling and almost tripping, and bowed dramatically in front of Beatrice.
She was wearing a pitch black dress, a slit on the right thigh.
A smile ghosted the wife's lips. "Hello, Henry."
Henry's eyes lit up. "You remember my name? She remembers my name!"
"Oh my f-" Nathaniel, who found his footing again, repositioned himself beside his wife, a hand finding its way to her shoulder.
He cleared his throat loudly. So did Henry, and he took a step back. Yet his eyes still danced with amusement.
"Beatrice, this is Henry." he started, pointing to a few of the people standing in the background, "that's Benjamin, then Adam, and that's Alessia."
Her eyes ran over the crowd, taking in the different faces and names. "What about the rest?"
"They're…" he trailed off.
"Unsignificant." Henry completed.
She made a soft sound, but nodded. Friends for the sake of keeping connections.
"Oh my."
A smooth, feminine voice joined them. Both of them whipped around to a pair of bright green eyes.
"Nathan!"
His lips curled. "Anne. It's been a while"
The woman, Anne, approached Nathaniel. He let go of his wife's shoulder and fist bumped with her instead.
"I know right!" she sighed deeply, "Last thing I knew, you told us you were getting married, and then disappeared!"
"Well…" he scratched his cheek, "it's a long story."
"Speaking of marriage," his hand found Beatrice's shoulder again, and he pulled her forward.
"Anne, this is Beatrice, my… wife."
She blinked, not expecting the impromptu introduction.
"Oh, pleasant meeting you… Beatrice."
Something in her green eyes made Beatrice uncomfortable.
"Nice to meet you too, Anne."
But she wasn't one to back down so easily.