Having been so preoccupied with Emline Hawthorne’s sudden words, Matteo wasn’t able to react in ti before a large hand made contact with his cheek. His head veered to the side due to the force, and Emline’s gasp quickly rang through the courtyard.
"Matteo, are you alright?" she cried out, hurriedly worming closer to have a look. But when Matteo side-stepped her to avoid her touch, Emline fell against the car, barely supporting herself against the door.
"Emline, darling, be careful!" Mrs. Hawthorne ca stumbling over, her hand holding her beloved daughter tenderly. On the other hand, she shot a scathing look at Matteo, who did not even spare her a second glance.
Instead, his eyes were squarely on his father.
"You have got quite so nerve!" Matteo’s father, Charles, fud. His face had turned beetroot red, anger coloring his complexion as he jabbed a finger in Matteo’s direction.
Despite the slap to the face, Matteo calmly smiled. However, there was no warmth in his expression, nor was there any patience left in his tone.
"If this is the welco party, I’m starting to doubt you actually wanted ho," he calmly said before reaching for the car door. "If that’s the case, I shall take my leave."
"No!" Emline imdiately cried out. She wriggled out of her mother’s arms and stepped closer to the door, her eyes watery and puppy-like as she stared up at Matteo. "Your father was rely worried about you, Matteo. We’ve only heard of the..." she paused, making a face, "engagent from the dia. Perhaps this was all just a misunderstanding?"
"It better be a misunderstanding," Annalise spat with a scowl. She turned to Charles and said, "Emline has been looking forward to her wedding with Matteo for years ever since they were engaged! How is there a random hussy coming over claiming herself to be your son’s fiancée?"
"There is no such thing, don’t you worry, Annalise," a new voice added.
Everyone turned their attention to the approaching woman, clad in a tight black dress and red-bottom heels. She placed a hand on Charles’s shoulder, running her hand up and down to calm the man down.
"Catherine," Annalise said. "I hope you have an explanation for this, because if this is how your family is planning to make a fool out of the Hawthornes, then―"
"Oh, don’t you worry," Catherine said with a bright smile. "Matteo was just fooling around. You know n― they are always kind enough to reach their hands out to helpless damsels who might need a knight. However, their princess will always be at ho waiting for them."
Catherine turned to Matteo and continued, "Isn’t that right, Matteo?"
Perhaps if this was any other day, discussing any other topic, Matteo might’ve relented. He never liked this stepmother of his, but if he dared sing a different tune, all the effort that he had put in for the last few years would’ve been for naught. However, this was a wholly different occasion, one in which Matteo wasn’t planning to back down.
"On the contrary," Matteo said, eting Catherine’s gaze directly, "it wasn’t a misunderstanding." He then turned to address his father, purposely ignoring the mother-daughter pair. "I am engaged and I plan on seeing it bear fruit."
Charles’s face turned a deep red as he pointed a finger at Matteo. Whatever anger that Catherine had managed to soothe imdiately rushed back to the surface. "You―"
"Please," Emline suddenly said, stepping forward. She stood in between Charles and Matteo, as though she could use her small fra to protect Matteo from harm if Charles decided to strike. "Can we have so space?" She turned to her mother. "Alone?"
Hearing this, Charles clenched his jaw before eventually turning on his heel. He left for the mansion’s front door, and Catherine trailed dutifully behind him. Annalise followed shortly after Emline gave her a reassuring look, and soon enough, it was just the two younger folks.
Matteo, however, had no intention of staying and giving others more to wag their tongues about. He opened the car door and wanted to step in, only for Emline to reach forward and grab his sleeve.
"Matteo―"
The man in question rely glared at Emline, looking pointedly at her hand where she held his sleeve, and she quickly let go. Her eyes watered as though she had received a huge grievance.
"This is for your own good and for hers as well," Emline said, her voice sickly sweet and demure. "A common folk like her will never be fully accepted in our circle. She will be an outcast, a social pariah."
"On the contrary, Miss Hawthorne," Matteo said, flicking his sleeve subtly as though to get rid of the imaginary dirt Emline had placed on his clothes, "she will be my wife. That alone is enough to cent her status as an elite mber of society."
"But what of our engagent?" Emline asked, her voice cracking. "I was― We were―"
"We had no engagent," Matteo said. "It was sothing your mother and my stepmother joked about when we were children. I have never proposed to you, and will never do so. Please refrain from spreading lies."
"All of our friends know," Emline said. She twisted her white skirt anxiously, biting her lip. "What will I tell them?"
Matteo raised an eyebrow. "What is there to tell?"
"That my― That you’re engaged to soone else!" Emline cried out. "Everyone knows that we are going to be married. It was only a matter of ti. The Hawthornes and the Montgorys have too many business projects that will only be strengthened by our union."
"I am not the only son of the Montgory family, Miss Hawthorne," Matteo said. "If our parents are insistent, as I said, there’s always my brother. I seem to recall that you and him are very close."
Matteo sighed and adjusted his clothing. He then turned, ready to enter his car and drive off. He badly needed to return ho to rest. Staying here for even a second was proving to be endlessly suffocating.
"We have an engagent celebration booked for two weeks later!" Emline said. She was grasping at straws at this mont, and everything she pushed out was only ruthlessly shot down by Matteo. "How do you expect our families to explain to the guests? The invitations have already been sent out!"
Matteo stilled in his actions. He turned, his eyebrows knitting tightly together.
"What engagent celebration?"
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