Chapter 41 Going Home with Him
I looked at the gift box in his hand, then at his face that screamed "of course."
I really wanted to snatch that box from him and smash it right into his handsome face.
"Your fiancée?" I let out a cold laugh. "Royce, have you forgotten that I just had my assistant return your five billion dollar order?"
The smile on his face didn't change one bit, as if I wasn't talking about a huge sum that could save any company from bankruptcy, but some trivial matter.
"I know," he said. "You work very efficiently."
He knew?
He knew, and he still dared to stand here and talk to me in that damn calm tone?
"That order was just a cooperation proposal. But our engagement is a matter between two families." He stepped forward, almost pressing against me. "You rejected my business, and I'm sorry about that. But it doesn't affect your duty as my fiancée to meet my family."
This bastard.
He was separating the issues.
He defined my rejection of his order as a business decision.
And defined our relationship as a family obligation.
He was always like this, using his damn logic to arrange everything so clearly that you couldn't find any holes to argue against.
"I'm not going." I stepped back, trying to create distance between us. "I have nothing to do with you or your family."
"Now you do." He pushed the gift box into my arms. "From the moment you leaned against me yesterday and told Myrdal I was your darling, you did."
My breath caught.
He was using this against me again.
"That was just acting!"
"Was it? But Myrdal believed it. Soon, all of America's upper class, even all of high society will believe it. Selena, you're a smart person. You should know that denying all this now will only make you a joke."
He was right.
Damn it, he was right.
If I rushed out now and shouted to the world that I had nothing to do with Royce Sterling, what would that make of the show I put on in front of Myrdal?
A pathetic woman who, after being dumped by her ex-fiancé, desperately grabbed some random man to put on an act?
I couldn't accept becoming that.
I looked at him, and he looked back at me.
This was a silent battle.
He was certain that for the sake of my pride, I wouldn't expose this lie.
And I hated his confidence in having me all figured out.
"Get in the car." He seemed to lose patience, turning toward the elevator. "Don't keep Grandmother waiting too long. She's getting old."
Go, or not go?
Going meant I was accepting this farce he was directing, walking step by step into the trap he'd set.
Not going—where else could I go? Stay here and waste time with him, then wait for tomorrow's headlines to be filled with all sorts of ridiculous speculation about me?
I took a deep breath, a fire burning in my chest, making my insides ache.
In the end, I still followed him.
I told myself this was just a temporary compromise.
I wanted to see what he and his so-called grandmother were up to.
I also wanted to know what the inside of the Sterling family was really like.
Then I could break down and gradually defeat this infuriating egomaniac from within!
I held the gift box and followed him into the elevator.
He pressed the button for the underground garage.
In the elevator mirror, our two figures were reflected.
He was tall and straight, in an impeccable suit, looking like an elite in control of everything.
And I, wearing a black suit and holding a white gift box, looked like an assistant going to a funeral.
The elevator chimed as it arrived.
A black Rolls-Royce Phantom sat quietly in the distance.
The driver was already standing by the car door, waiting respectfully.
Royce opened the back door for me and made a "please" gesture.
I didn't move.
Right in front of him, I tore open the gift box wrapping.
Inside was a light purple dress.
V-neck, fitted waist, knee-length skirt. The fabric was top-quality silk, the design elegant, the craftsmanship impeccable.
Very beautiful.
And very fitting for a "well-behaved" fiancée meeting her elders.
I took out the dress and waved it in front of him.
"What, does Mr. Sterling think my outfit isn't good enough for your grandmother?"
He looked at me. "I just think this color suits you very well."
"Really?" I smiled. Then I let go.
That expensive dress floated down like a feather and landed on the ground.
I saw the driver standing nearby—his pupils contracted.
Royce's brow finally furrowed, almost imperceptibly.
"What I wear and who I meet is my own business. If you think I'm embarrassing you, we can cancel this meeting right now."
With that, I walked around him, got in the car, and slammed the door shut with a "bang."
I wanted him to know I wasn't some doll he could dress up however he wanted.
He stood outside the car, glanced at the dress on the ground, then actually let out a low laugh.
I didn't know what he was laughing about.
He walked around to the other side and got in too.
The car smoothly pulled out of the garage.
The atmosphere inside felt so oppressive it might explode.
I turned to look out the window, but I couldn't take anything in.
My mind was full of thoughts about how to get rid of this lunatic.
He didn't speak either, just leaned back in his seat with his eyes closed, as if resting.
I didn't know how long the car had been driving.
Too much had happened these past few days. My nerves had been constantly on edge, and I'd barely had any real rest.
The car was very quiet, with only the steady sound of the engine.
The seat was comfortable, and the temperature was just right.
My eyelids grew heavier and heavier.
No, I couldn't fall asleep.
How could I show such an unguarded side in front of this bastard?
I pinched my palm hard, trying to stay awake.
But physical instinct eventually won over willpower.
My consciousness gradually sank.
Before I completely lost awareness, I felt my head tilt to one side, resting against something warm and solid.