Chapter 18
ANNA
I may have overestimated my ability to remain calm.
I am, in fact, freaking out.
Outside, I was fine, and having Sylas at my side made me feel mellow. But now, my nerves are coiled tight.
I’ve dealt with the rich for years, so it should be straightforward, but this is different to working for them. This is sharing a meal and getting judged, because I just know his parents will.
This is pretend, I remind myself. It’s not like I’ll have to put up with them forever. I just need to smile and sell the hell out of our fake relationship.
Happy, obsessed, and in love, I chant in my head. No, wait, maybe in love is pushing it, but we’re in a relationship, so we’re supposed to come off that way, right?
This is pretend. Happy, obsessed, and in love.
“Anna, we’re so glad you were able to join us.” His mom stands, and the overzealous energy she radiates throws me off, but I’m astonished when she tugs me in for a hug and gives me a faux kiss on the cheek.
“Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Lenoir.” I smile at her when she draws back. She kept her maiden name, Alves, but I wasn’t sure whether to add that too or not.
“Oh please, call me Clara.”
“If you insist.”
“I do.” She beams, her pearly white teeth glowing.
Sylas studies her with apprehension before welcoming her hug with a kiss on the cheek. Then his father stands and extends his hand for me to take.
“Anna.” He doesn’t smile but he doesn’t stare at me the way he did at the auction.
“Mr. Lenoir.” My smile lifts higher. I know his name—Dean—but I’m not sure if I should call him by it, and I have my answer when he doesn’t correct me.
“Hey, I’m Thea,” his sister says from her chair, offering me a nod. Everything about her expression feels forced. Even the way she’s sitting looks stiff.
“Anna, but you already know that.” Still, I keep my lips curled, and hopefully everything about me screams I’m cool, calm, and confident.
Once we take our seats and order our drinks, the table goes tensely quiet.
Sylas is the first to speak. “Don’t do this. You have us here. Whatever you’re going to ask, just ask it.”
Oh my god. I’m not sure if I should duck and expect some kind of lash-out that will lead to the argument of the year, so I hold my breath as I wait.
My parents thrive off confrontation, especially my mother. She has a comeback for everything and no matter what, she’s never wrong. They always made me nervous and I always avoided them because they would lead to hour-long lectures. To her, it was never an argument; to her, it was just us talking.
I’d avoid them at all costs, especially because her passive-aggressiveness was sometimes too much to handle. Occasionally, I could put up with certain things, but her belittling remarks were hard to let slide.
“We’re just having dinner,” Clara starts.
Thea’s gaze slips between each family member, but she stays quiet. She looks between bored and annoyed, though I’m not sure which.
Sylas levels his mom with a suspicious look. “So, we’re just here for dinner?”
“Yes, Sylas,” his dad answers, a little irritated at him before his deep British voice becomes indifferent. “We’re just having dinner with your girlfriend, who we didn’t know existed until a few days ago.”
“We told you it’s new,” Sylas adds.
“We’re still getting to know one another,” I insert, not sure if I should’ve said anything at all.
“Right.” There’s something sardonic about the way he said that single word.
But it’s the slight twist of his lips and spark of challenge in his eyes that make me uncomfortable.
“With that being said, because this is new, has Sylas already told you how devoted he is to hockey? Because if he hasn’t, I need you to know that it has and will always come first. Everything is either second or last in his life.
I need you to understand that he can’t afford distractions.
Isn’t that right, Sylas?” he states, directing his intense, hardened eyes at him.
“That’s—”
“I can’t afford distractions either.” I talk over Sylas, and they all turn to stare at me like I’ve said something otherworldly.
“What I mean is, I have a lot going on in my life. Sylas knows that, just like I know he has a lot going on as well. Which is why we’re taking things slow, getting to know one another. ”
His father hums, and he scrutinizes me. “What is it you do?”
Sylas places his hand on my thigh, squeezing it gently as if he were trying to reassure me that it’s all going to be okay. “I’m a full-time student. I have two jobs and run my own business.”
“What kind of business?” Clara asks, eyes sparkling.
“Baking. I bake all sorts of things,” I answer proudly.
“She’s really good. She has this Instagram page of all the stuff she’s made,” Sylas adds, just as proud.
I can’t mask my shock quick enough, but once I recover a second later, I hide it. I didn’t know he had looked at my page.
“Oh, cute.” Clara grins, but the sound and expression of her flawless, wrinkle-free face feels and looks fake. It’s condescending and placating. I know it well—Mom adopted a similar one when I wore something she wasn’t a fan of.
Sylas removes his hand off my thigh and grabs mine, placing it on the table. Everyone’s gaze lands on it.
It’s intimate, the way he carefully holds it, how he rubs his thumb soothingly over my knuckles. For never having had a girlfriend, he’s good at this. Even the way he holds my stare feels personal, affectionate, special.
“I don’t understand why this relationship is necessary if you’re both immensely busy?” his father voices, breaking the spell we’re in.
For a mere second, I genuinely forgot they were here.
“We like each other,” Sylas answers, but his eyes are on mine, full of warmth as his dimples indent each cheek.
My stomach rampantly flutters. “It’s not like we’re getting married or putting anything on hold to be with each other.
” He now looks at them with a forced friendliness.
“We’re taking things slow, but we’re exclusive.
I don’t want anyone else and neither does Anna, so here we are.
” He raises our joined hands as if to prove a point.
They’re not convinced. At least his dad isn’t.
Thea looks like she couldn’t care less, and his mom looks like she either supports us or is having a heart attack.
I don’t know what to make of Clara, but something is off about her.
However, she’s the least of my worries because his father is staring at me like I’m the gum beneath his shoe.
But it’s a short-lived look because he smiles. Granted, it’s tight, but I’ll take it. “Well, Anna, we’re happy to have you here.” His words sound robotic, like it took everything in him to voice them out loud.
“Thanks for having me.” I make sure my smile doesn’t mirror his, and keep it firmly in place throughout dinner.
In spite of it all, Sylas makes a pretty good boyfriend. I know he’s doing his best to sell this relationship, but I swear at times it feels…real.