Chapter8
1040 Words
"There you are, John." The sound of Ara's mother, Catherine, was like a sudden deluge of ice-cold water, abruptly halting the heated moment. Ara cleared her throat, using her mother's unexpected arrival as an opportunity to put some distance between herself and... well, everything that had just transpired. "Catherine," John's tone was frosty, indifferent. This was the man she remembered.
"Where have you been? Jenny is eagerly waiting to meet you." The news was like a punch in the gut. His soon-to-be wife was looking for him just around the corner while he had been intimately entwined with her.
A feeling of self-pity washed over Ara.
"If you'll excuse me, Mother. John." Ara deftly sidestepped him, her shoulders pulled back in a show of resilience. She was determined to maintain her composure as she returned to the party. Lucielle met her gaze from across the room, but Ara deliberately ignored her, instead heading towards a server to grab a flute of champagne. She thanked him and took a generous sip, her fingers delicately gripping the stem as she tried to regain her equilibrium.
As she tried to collect her thoughts, she pondered her options for a swift and unnoticed exit. Could she simply walk out the door, feigning sudden illness? Would Josh even offer to escort her back to the hotel, or would he require John's approval? She wouldn't put it past John to demand a doctor to examine her before allowing her to leave.
She placed a hand on her stomach, feeling slightly nauseated as the alcohol settled into her system. Maybe she wouldn't need to pretend to be sick after all.
Just as she turned to leave, Ara found herself face-to-face with her mother and John, who had escorted her into the room. Where was Douglas?
"Tonight is a celebration, a joyous homecoming for our dear John, freshly returned from Ireland!" A cheer erupted around the room, punctuating her mother's announcement. "Tonight we celebrate with friends and family, and hopefully, we embark on a new path that will lead us into the future, together." Ara nearly choked on her drink. Since when was her mother a supporter of John's, let alone trying to present him in such a favorable light to the crowd?
Most of the guests Ara had encountered that night were members of the Syndicate in some capacity. They were well-acquainted with John and his recent ascension to the head of the family. Why was her mother making such a spectacle?
John stood rigidly by her side, his mouth set in a firm line, his eyes hardened as he scanned the room, finally stopping when they found her.
John's stare was unyielding and unblinking, locked onto Ara until she felt compelled to look away. She broke their eye contact and took another large sip of her champagne, attempting to put some distance between them. Her glass was nearly empty, so she approached a server who was passing by and exchanged her empty flute for a full one.
Her mother's voice rang out, concluding her lengthy speech. "Let's transition to the dining room for a sumptuous meal, lovingly prepared by our skilled chefs," she declared, ushering John along with her into the next room.
Ara found herself rooted in place, her mind wrestling with the decision to join the others for dinner or seize the opportunity to make a swift exit. Her contemplation was abruptly interrupted by John's icy voice from behind her. "Don't even contemplate it," he spat out, his hand firmly gripping her elbow and guiding her in the direction of the dining room.
"Release me, John. Your behavior is bordering on psychotic," she retorted, startled by his sudden appearance behind her. His response was nonverbal but no less forceful. He took her nearly full champagne flute from her hand and with his other, he steered her towards an empty seat, conveniently situated next to his chair at the head of the table.
Across the table sat Jenny and her family, and to her side was her mother and Douglas.
"Really, dear? You had to have your brother fetch you?" The sarcastic comment from her mother set her nerves on edge.
"Stepbrother," she automatically corrected, her words accompanied by a hostile glare shot at Jenny before she could censor herself. She swiftly averted her eyes, choosing to stare at her hands on her lap until the meal was served.
"So, Ara," Jenny's voice dripped with condescension as she spoke Ara's name as if it left a bitter taste in her mouth. "I understand you've recently completed your degree. Something related to writing, wasn't it? Have you decided on your future plans? Perhaps you're considering pottery?" Jenny's smile was wide, her eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.
"I find it admirable that Ara has the motivation to further herself," Lucielle countered, stabbing a piece of lettuce aggressively with her fork. "Perhaps you should consider doing the same, Jenny, before making fun of others."
Jenny appeared taken aback, sputtering before formulating a reply. "I didn't intend to sound so rude, of course. I only wanted-"
"We're all aware of your intentions," John interrupted coldly, raising his glass of whiskey to his lips before cutting into his steak. "Is this truly the woman you believe I should wed? A mere child?" Jenny's jaw dropped in disbelief and Ara was equally shocked by John's comment.
"Under normal circumstances, Jenny displays much more refinement," Jenny's mother, Helen, began in an attempt to salvage the situation. Lucielle snorted into her hand, earning her a collective glare from the rest of the table.
"A minor error that can undoubtedly be corrected promptly," she added feebly to John.
The conversation made Ara feel sick to her stomach. It was a stark reminder of the devaluation of women in their world, discussing Jenny as though she were a pet to be trained.
"If I were in the market for a pet, then Jenny would certainly be the top choice. However, it's unfortunate for her that I have my sights set on something infinitely more precious." John's words were said casually as he took a hearty bite of his steak but they resonated deeply with Ara.
She knew she needed to find a way out immediately.
- Writer
