“Bud Light,” Marco said, with a condescending smile that he soon turned on me. “Sorry I’m late, babe, getting out here from uptown was hell. Today’s been jam-packed with meeting after meeting.”
He looked at me with an expression I was sure was supposed to garner sympathy in me but actually just pissed me off.
Babe? Who the hell did he think he was talking to? Nonetheless, I gave him a tight smile in lieu of a real greeting.
“It’s fine,” I looked down at the menu. I wanted to mutter a snide comment about being glad he could fit me into his schedule but I bit my cheek instead. Everything about him makes me want to scream, and not in a good way.
“Have you been here long?” he asked, not really sounding interested, more like he was asking because he felt he should.
“Oh, you know, just twenty minutes or so…” I give him a look over the menu that I hope makes him feel uncomfortable.
He gave me a small incline of his head and looked to his own menu. I hoped he was blushing furiously but because of the menu, I couldn’t tell. We sat in silence until Marci came back to take our orders. As she turned away from Marco and his leering eyes, she gave me a smile I could only describe as sympathetic.
“So, how are you, Anastasia?” Marco asked eventually, as he dragged his eyes away from Marci’s retreating form. “I haven’t heard from you since the party, I’d expected to hear from you sooner.”
“Oh, well, you know how it is. I’ve been busy with,” I paused almost imperceptibly. “Family things…” The words felt weird in my mouth. But it had to be a believable excuse at least. He had to be fooled, just like everyone else.
“Right, of course. My parents were the same with me…” And that was all it took to start off a long rambling speech about his family, complaining about how hard it was for him growing up with the weight of his parents’ expectations weighing on his shoulders. I was able to resist an eye roll - that would’ve been too obvious - but I couldn’t stop my teeth from grinding together. That had been becoming a bad habit of mine as of late.
I longed to goad him, my inner sarcastic bitch was being held back by only a thread. Who the hell did he think he was? The king of England? I thought not.
Maybe it was just me being an actual bitch. But really, he should’ve thought more about his audience for this performance.
And yet, I managed to keep my trap shut the entire time.
After he mentioned the few years difference in our age and a long stop off at his privileged upbringing, he even had the audacity to tell me how he mourned me. Apparently, despite never having actually met me before, he’d felt my loss deeply. And… then proceeded to tell me about how I’d impacted all of his past relationships. Including his three year off and on relationship with his university's Cheer Captain, Gina.
Well, she sounded just darling… but that wasn’t a relationship, they had clearly been fuck buddies.
I was about ready to tear out my eyes from boredom when our food finally arrived because he still hadn’t come up for air. A beautiful juicy steak was placed in front of me and across from me, a ravioli dish that Marco had ordered.
The picture made me want to giggle. I remembered Nikolai’s skill in the kitchen, and the time he made Italian for us on my first day with him. Back before I trusted him. Before I loved him. I wondered if the pasta was as good as Nikolai’s.
I clenched my teeth to keep from snapping at Marco. As boring and self-assured as he was, he probably didn’t deserve the full brunt of my wrath.
“And honestly, I don’t think a woman’s place is at the head of the family, I think women should support their husbands. But then again, that’s why this is such a perfect match. Don’t you agree?” The words jarred me out of my memories like a bucket of ice water over my head.
“What?” I snapped, maybe a touch more harshly than I had intended. But if he had honestly just insinuated a woman’s place was basically the kitchen, I… Oh, I had a thing or two to say about that.
And then about a million more things to say about his assumption that he would be merging our family empires just so that he could sit on an even bigger throne.
Ugh. My mind growled at his insensitiveness towards this subject, and at his overall pigheadedness.
“I just meant, if we’re to be married, I hope that you would support me in all aspects of our life,” he said, watching me closely. I waited a moment, collating both of his statements, thinking of my answer and painfully aware that a wrong answer could indeed mean compromising my mission, and maybe even my life.
“Of course, Marco, I’d help you make decisions,” I said with forced enthusiasm, a fake as shit smile across my lips. “We would do everything together, I’m sure.”
For a moment, he opened and closed his mouth like a fish. “That’s not quite—”
I barreled on though, not letting him correct me.
“Oh no, don’t worry. The Varelas, my parents, are teaching me so much. I’m sure I would never let them or you down. After all, we would be one big family by then, wouldn’t we?” I gave him a poisonous smile, knowing that there was no way he could refute what I was saying. Not without tipping his hand one way or the other.
“I’m sure, yes, we would be one big happy family. Yes…I’m sure,” he said and stuffed a forkful of food into his mouth simultaneously.
The date dragged on, and once again, I was struck by how much this man just wanted to talk about himself, his achievements, his
