Table of Contents

+ Add to Library

Previous Next

Chapter 7 The Dinner And Seduction Disaster

  • ​One week after the storm, the dust settled into something resembling a routine, though nothing about my life with Atticus felt normal. I sat on the plush leather couch in his study, flipping through a magazine, while he signed documents at his desk.
  • ​"There is a mandatory Fletcher family dinner this Sunday," Atticus said, not looking up from his paper. "Seven o'clock sharp."
  • ​"A family dinner?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Is every family member coming?"
  • ​"Yes," he replied, capping his pen. "My brothers, their wives, the elders, and my son."
  • ​I closed the magazine and placed it on the coffee table. "This isn't just a dinner, is it?"
  • ​"No," Atticus said softly. "It is a declaration of war."
  • ​On Sunday evening, the grand dining room of the Fletcher estate hummed with the chatter of extended family. Relatives in tailored suits and heavy jewelry filled the space. Solomon arrived early, dragging Chardonnay behind him like a prize trophy.
  • ​Solomon puffed out his chest, strutting past his uncles and cousins. He raised Chardonnay’s left hand high into the air, showing off a massive, ostentatious diamond ring.
  • ​"Everyone, listen up!" Solomon shouted, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. "We're engaged!"
  • ​A beat of hesitation swept through the room. A few distant cousins clapped, while an aunt squinted at the ring. Two older uncles exchanged a look that suggested they thought the young man had lost his mind.
  • ​"Isn't it gorgeous?" Chardonnay chimed in, tossing her hair. "Solomon let me pick it out myself."
  • ​"Only the best for my future bride," Solomon boasted, grinning from ear to ear. "I win, folks. I finally have it all."
  • ​Before anyone could reply, the heavy double doors at the back of the room swung wide open.
  • ​The chatter died instantly. Atticus walked in. Beside him, matching his slow, deliberate pace, was me. His fingers curled firmly around my waist, pulling me close to his side.
  • ​An aunt dropped her silver fork, sending a loud clatter against her porcelain plate. An uncle choked on his wine, coughing into a napkin.
  • ​Solomon’s grin melted into horror. His head jerked toward me, then toward his father, then back to me, his jaw slack.
  • ​"Dad?" Solomon squeaked out, his voice cracking. "What... what are you doing?"
  • ​Atticus walked me to the head of the table. He pulled out chair beside his own, waiting until I sat down before leaning over to whisper, "Comfortable?"
  • ​"Very," I murmured back.
  • ​Atticus smoothed his suit jacket and turned his gaze to his son. "Dinner."
  • ​"Dinner?" Solomon repeated, his face turning bright red. "With her?"
  • ​"Sit down, Solomon," Atticus commanded.
  • ​Everyone scrambled to their seats. Plates were served, but no one picked up a fork. The silence weighed heavy on the room.
  • ​Atticus cleared his throat, resting his hands flat on the table. "I have an announcement. Freya is my official companion. She is my chosen partner and my guest tonight." He scanned the faces around the table, stopping at Solomon. "Anyone who disrespects her disrespects me."
  • ​Solomon shoved an entire shrimp into his mouth, chewing furiously as his face turned from red to purple. Chardonnay sat frozen, her eyes wide. She looked at Solomon, who was currently choking on seafood and wiping his sweaty forehead with a napkin.
  • Then she shifted her gaze to Atticus, taking in his calm posture, his tailored suit, and the effortless way he commanded the room without raising his voice.
  • ​Her lips parted slightly. She looked back at Solomon’s frantic, desperate expression, then back to Atticus.
  • ⁠✷⁠⁠✷⁠⁠✷⁠⁠✷⁠
  • ​Two days later, Chardonnay cornered Solomon in his apartment lobby. She grabbed his arm, leaning in close.
  • ​"Solomon, we need a plan," she whispered frantically. "Your father is hiding something. He's using that girl to mess with your head."
  • ​"I knew it!" Solomon spat, pacing back and forth. "He's trying to ruin me!"
  • ​"We need leverage," Chardonnay insisted, her eyes gleaming. "Someone needs to get into his private office at headquarters. We need to find out what he's planning."
  • ​"That's genius, Chardonnay," Solomon said, rubbing his chin. "You're so smart."
  • ​"I'll go," she said quickly. "I'll handle it myself."
  • ⁠✷⁠⁠✷⁠⁠✷⁠⁠✷⁠
  • ​By Thursday afternoon, I was visiting Atticus at his office. We sat on the couch in his top-floor office, eating takeout lunch in peace. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting bright geometric patterns across the hardwood floor.
  • ​The intercom on his desk buzzed.
  • ​"Sir, someone is here to see you," his secretary announced.
  • ​Before Atticus could answer, the heavy double doors flew open.
  • ​Chardonnay strutted into the room, wearing a beige trench coat and a cloud of suffocating floral perfume. She ignored me completely and marched straight toward Atticus’s desk.
  • ​"Atticus," she gasped dramatically.
  • ​She unbuttoned her trench coat, threw her head back, and flung herself across the flat surface of his desk, sprawling over his paperwork like a cover model. She smiled seductively, waiting for his reaction.
  • ​Atticus didn't flinch. He didn't even blink. He just stared at her with a blank, empty expression.
  • ​Five seconds passed in complete silence.
  • ​Ten seconds.
  • ​Fifteen seconds.
  • ​Atticus slowly reached down and pressed the intercom button.
  • ​"Security," he said calmly.
  • ​"Yes, Mr. Fletcher?" the speaker crackled.
  • ​"There appears to be a large, improperly packaged ham on my desk," Atticus said. "Please remove it."
  • ​Chardonnay gasped, her eyes flying open. "What?!"
  • ​Two large security guards burst into the room a second later. They grabbed Chardonnay by her elbows and hoisted her off the desk.
  • ​"Get your hands off me!" Chardonnay shrieked, kicking her heels into the air. "I will sue you! I will write a book! I will post this on social media! Atticus, look at me!"
  • ​The guards dragged her out the door, her screams fading down the long hallway until the doors clicked shut.
  • ​Atticus stood up, grabbed a box of disinfectant wipes from his drawer, and began thoroughly scrubbing the surface of his desk. He tossed the used wipe in the trash, then pressed the intercom again.
  • ​"Order new air filters for this floor," he instructed. "And open every window in the building."
  • ​I tried to hold it in, but a snort escaped my nose. Seconds later, I burst into laughter, burying my face in my hands as my shoulders shook.
  • ​Atticus tossed another wipe away and looked over at me, a tiny smirk touching the corner of his lips. "Is something funny?"
  • ​"You called her a ham," I managed to say between giggles.
  • ​"It was an accurate description," he said smoothly, walking over to sit beside me on the couch.
  • ​My laughter died down as he leaned closer. The playful atmosphere shifted into something thick and heavy.
  • ​"You didn't hesitate at dinner," I said quietly, looking into his dark eyes. "In front of your whole family."
  • ​"Why would I hesitate?" he asked softly.
  • ​"You claimed me," I whispered.
  • ​"I stated a fact," Atticus replied, his voice dropping an octave. "You belong beside me, Freya. Did you dislike it?"
  • ​My chest heaved. I swallowed hard, unable to lie. "No. I liked it."
  • ​A faint smile touched his lips. "Good."
  • ​Neither of us said another word, but the truth hung between us, unyielding and undeniable.
  • ⁠✷⁠⁠✷⁠⁠✷⁠⁠✷⁠
  • ​That night, Solomon kicked open the door to Chardonnay’s apartment. His face was twisted in rage as he slammed the door behind him.
  • ​"What were you doing at my father's office?!" Solomon yelled, throwing his hands in the air. "Security called me! They said you tried to jump him!"
  • ​Chardonnay stood by her marble kitchen island, sipping a glass of white wine. She didn't look scared. She looked disgusted.
  • ​"Answer me!" Solomon screamed, storming toward her. "Why did you try to seduce my father?!"
  • ​Chardonnay slammed her glass down on the counter, shattering the stem. Red-faced, she leaned across the marble and shrieked directly into his face.
  • ​"Because your father is better than you in every single way!"
  • ​Solomon froze. The color drained completely from his cheeks, his arms hanging limply at his sides as he stared at her in utter shock.