Indebted: A Debt-p*****t Romance (English Version)

Chapter 8: Grandson

The playroom is the room near the backyard. I was hesitant to step inside, but it was as if I had a choice, having Mr. Montevalles' hand on my lower back, guiding me in. His gentle hold on me never goes unnoticed. It's almost gentle and caring. I don’t want to think about anything because of his sudden kindness towards me. But that is the mere reason I am feeling this familiar anxiety. It’s just hard to believe.

"How is it?" he asked in a gentle voice as he closed the door behind him. His eyes were shining, and I'm not heartless to break him by not saying what he's expecting me to say. And besides, I don't think I could dare say something he wouldn't like if I tell him the truth. 

The room is different from what I am expecting it to be. This is really a playful room, an entertainment family room, and nothing of the sort I expected. 

It is spacious and wide despite the fact that it's loaded with furniture. To the left are two huge sofas, between them is a coffee table. In front and up against the wall is a huge TV screen that almost took up the space of that wall. There are two steps to get to it. A thick and probably soft carpet laid on the floor.

In the middle of the room is an island counter with high stools, in which expensive liquors and other beverages are displayed. Besides, it is a medium-height refrigerator.

On the west side of the room is a billiard table, complete with the balls and the sticks. It is near the wall-length glass door heading to the wide, open garth. Another white huge sofa is in the garden. I can’t clearly see from here their infinity swimming pool. 

"So?" Mr. Montevalles prompted. His eyes gleamed with his smile. He probably felt proud of my amazement in his mansion. It’s just that, it’s been years since I’ve been around an extravagant place.

"It's... It's nice.” I smiled gently. Despite being wealthy, my parents didn’t try having an entertainment room in our house, or even in my grandfather’s mansion. They were too busy with the family business to even think about having bonds with the family.

And it's even more surprising to think that there's this kind of room in this house. Mr. Montevalles doesn’t seem different from our family. He seems to be the type who won’t trouble himself spending time with family for this kind of entertainment. But look at him. And to this room.

"It’s been a while since it’s last used,” he informed in his natural manly voice. I watched as his hand gently caressed the surface of the billiard table. "You know how to play pool?"

I quickly shook my head, still not believing we are here to play, that he is really spending his day off with me 

"Come, I'll teach you," he held his hand out to me while the other one was holding a cue stick.

I accepted his hand. He gave it a gentle squeeze before giving me the stick. He circled around the table and arranged the small colorful balls. He went back behind me after doing it. 

"Holding this stick, you just need to—" He failed to teach me because I immediately made an awkward step back. I am not comfortable with our close proximity. I feel like he is invading my personal space standing behind me. We were both startled by my sudden avoidance. I instantly felt the fear as anger crossed his eyes. It was quick and almost unnoticeable. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and that anger was gone from his eyes when he opened them again. 

"I-I'm sorry."

"It's fine," he said with controlled patience. 

I was not able to answer right away, amazed at how he controlled himself. I’m aware of how my action could make him hurt me again. I can’t help but gape at him, dumbfounded and unbelieving he is capable of controlling himself. He always acts upon his emotions so impassively and drastically. 

"I-I'd like to see your movie collection," I said as a means of diversion from my action. I glanced at the huge screen to the east. 

"Oh!" he exclaimed, his eyes shining in amazement. He walked near me and snaked his arm around my waist. We walked together towards it and stepped on the two steps to the sofas. "I don't have love stories if that's what you wish to watch. These are Yves' collection and also Yohan seems to like his dad's type of movie as well."

I am blankly looking ahead as he sets up our movie marathon. I don’t mean it but my mind is involuntarily thinking about his son. So, Yves is his name. And his son being named Yohan, probably named after him. 

I wanted to forget his assault on me and just wanted to meet his son and also his wife. Is she aware of the mess his husband is creating? As well as this little game of Mr. Montevalles? His father-in-law’s mistress? Does she know about me?

I didn’t give full attention to the superhero collection movies of Yves and his son. I want to. I want to be comfortable with Mr. Montevalles but I just can't. I’ve never been involved in a serious relationship. I've never been committed to someone. I could even socialize with guys around my age because I always feel awkward. Not to mention I have to keep my distance from everyone for my own safety. What more is Mr. Montevalles' age?

In fact, he doesn’t look that old. If I’m not mistaken, he is a little younger than my parents. I stared at him being engrossed and happily watching the movie play on the screen. And I can’t help my own amazement.

He without a doubt has a beautiful face. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has the conquest of girls willingly throwing themselves at him during his teenage years. He is wealthy, powerful, and handsome. That’s why I can't understand why I, of all people. I have no connection to their family. I don’t know anything. They just suddenly appeared in my life having all these problems, starting from the debts Dion made to them.

“Are you enjoying it?" he asked in a tender voice, as tender as his touch of the back of his hand against my cheek. I wasn’t able to move as he tucked the strand of my hair behind my ear. His face was so closed that I thought he'd kiss me. 

I lost count of the time we spent watching. The snack Manang Imelda brought to us just earlier remained on the table. I only pay attention to the juice. I wanted to complain about how my back hurt from sitting upright and uncomfortably despite the comfort of the fluffy sofa. It’s because of his arm around me, never leaving my waist. His hand would often rest on my hips and he would constantly try to lay my head on his shoulder. I want so badly to complain. But of course, I don’t have the courage to do that. Meanwhile, he is all comfortable, having the best of his time.