"What the hell is she doing here?" Felix hissed under his breath, leaning slightly toward his father, eyes still fixed on Lara, who had taken her seat at the dinner table like she’d been doing it for years.
Wilson Crawford adjusted his glasses and sipped his wine, unbothered. "She ca by earlier. Said she was in the area and wanted to say hello. Your mother saw her and invited her to stay for dinner. The rest... well, you’re seeing it yourself."
Felix dragged a hand down his face. "The woman doesn’t listen. I told her, clear as day, that there’s nothing happening between us. No arrangent, no engagent. She acted like I didn’t even speak."
"You’re very bad at being firm, son."
"I was firm," Felix groaned. "She just... talks over it."
Wilson chuckled lowly. "Then maybe you should stop talking and start showing."
"What does that even an?" Felix muttered.
Before Wilson could explain, a lodic voice interrupted them.
"Gentlen," Victoria Crawford called from across the dining room, her eyes twinkling with amusent. "What are you two gossiping about over there?"
Both n straightened in unison and answered in chorus, "Nothing."
Victoria narrowed her eyes slightly, but her smile didn’t fade. "Then co on. The food’s getting cold."
Felix sighed, shoulders slumping slightly as he followed his father to the long dining table. His usual seat was already occupied by Lara, who patted the chair beside her with a bright smile.
"I saved this one just for you," she said sweetly, her lips glossed in a soft peach color that sparkled under the chandelier light.
Felix blinked. "How thoughtful," he muttered, dragging the chair back and sitting down with the stiffness of a man entering a trap.
The butler began serving the dishes—rosemary lamb, garlic butter potatoes, roasted vegetables, and fresh garden salad. The usual fare that Felix often found comfort in after a long day.
But tonight? Tonight the food could’ve been made of cardboard, and he wouldn’t have noticed the difference.
Because Lara Johanssen was sitting way too close.
"You have great posture when you eat," she comnted as she reached for her glass. "Elegant. It shows discipline. I like a man with discipline."
Felix turned to her slowly, eyes slightly narrowed. "Thanks?"
"And your watch—it’s from Breguet, isn’t it?" she continued with a chirpy voice. "My father has the sa one, but yours looks better on the wrist."
Felix gave her a tight-lipped smile. "It tells ti."
"Oh, Felix," she laughed, resting her chin on her palm as she looked at him. "You’re funny."
He took a bite of his lamb and chewed slowly, pretending he was savoring the flavor. In truth, he was just buying ti to resist the urge to scream.
His parents, sitting across the table, watched them with expressions far too pleased for his liking. Victoria looked like she was about to plan an engagent party, and Wilson? He looked like this was just another successful business rger.
"So, Lara," Victoria said, sipping her wine, "how are you finding the city?"
"Oh, I love it," Lara said, turning to beam at her hostess. "There’s so much energy here. And the food! I haven’t even tried half the restaurants on my list yet."
"Well," Wilson added, "you’ll have to let Felix take you to a few. He knows all the best spots."
"I was just going to suggest that," Lara said, placing a hand lightly on Felix’s forearm.
Felix froze.
He gave his father a look that said, Are you kidding right now? Wilson just raised his glass slightly in a mock-toast and took another sip.
"I wouldn’t want to impose," Lara added in a tone that clearly suggested she absolutely wanted to impose.
Felix gently but obviously removed her hand from his arm and returned to cutting his at. "I’m a bit busy this week," he said vaguely.
"Oh, that’s okay," Lara replied smoothly. "I’m patient. I can wait. Good things co to those who wait, right?"
Felix stared at his plate, willing it to swallow him whole.
anwhile, his mother chuckled. "It’s nice to see such enthusiasm."
Felix looked up. "Enthusiasm is great. But consent would be better."
Lara laughed again as if he’d made another joke. "You’re so witty!"
He wasn’t joking.
Dinner dragged on with Lara constantly chatting—about her favorite colors, how she once visited Paris with her father, how her favorite flower was peony but she’d settle for roses. She complinted Felix’s cufflinks, his hair, his voice.
At one point, she told his mother, "He’s exactly the kind of man I imagined myself marrying when I was a girl. I always said I’d marry soone who’s smart and strong and a little emotionally constipated."
Felix coughed.
Wilson chuckled.
Victoria bead.
And Felix slowly placed his fork down and pressed two fingers to his temple.
He was going to lose it.
By the end of the al, dessert was served—chocolate lava cake with a side of vanilla gelato—but Felix could barely taste it. Lara continued chatting, clearly unfazed by his cold, one-word answers and blank expressions. She treated his silence like so kind of flirtatious mystery.
"So, Felix," she said while spooning a bit of the gelato into her mouth, "are you always this quiet during dinners, or is it just because I’m here?"
Felix looked at her, then at his parents, then back at his plate.
He let out a slow, deep breath. "I just really like to chew," he deadpanned.
Lara giggled. "Chew all you want. I’ll talk enough for both of us."
"Oh, she definitely will," Victoria agreed with a smile.
Felix gave his mother a look of betrayal. "You’re enjoying this way too much."
"Well, it’s not every day we have such lively company," she said brightly.
Felix stabbed his cake with his fork. "Lively," he muttered. "That’s one word for it."
After dessert, everyone moved to the sitting area with drinks. Lara sat beside him again, practically curled up like a cat.
Felix leaned as far back into the couch as possible, his legs crossed stiffly, arms folded across his chest, keeping the last thread of his sanity intact.
His mother was flipping through photo albums with Lara, showing pictures of Felix when he was younger.
Felix closed his eyes.
He swore the room was spinning.
He wanted to be anywhere else. Preferably sowhere quiet. And far, far away from the woman who now sohow knew the na of his childhood dog.
By the ti he was finally allowed to leave, he stood up from the couch, stretched, and offered the most forced smile in history.
"Thanks for dinner," he muttered.
"You’re welco anyti," his mother said with a knowing look.
"We should do this again," Lara chid, standing as well.
"I’m sure we will," Victoria added.
God help .
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