Chapter 14
Amabel’s face darkened with fury, her eyes blazing as she whispered, “that bastard! How could he?” Her hands balled into fists, the fabric of her dress straining beneath her tight grip.
Felix’s gaze dropped, his jaw clenched in simmering anger and frustration. Alaric’s sudden reappearance had undone all his progress, casting a shadow over his accomplishments once again. The memory of his mother’s confident prediction—that Alaric’s star would fade—now seemed laughable. Alaric was back, and he was stealing the show.
Chairman Dawson’s expression turned glacial, his eyes drifting away from Alaric and Cressida with deliberate slowness. He raised his wineglass to his lips, his movements calculated and precise, revealing nothing of his true thoughts or feelings.
Cressida glided across the room, her movements poised and confident, as she took her place beside Easton, behind Alaric’s chair. “May I?” She asked, her voice smooth and polite.
Easton nodded and stepped aside with a slight curtsy.
Cressida took charge, gently guiding Alaric to the table and pulling out a chair for him.
Alaric’s gaze locked onto hers, his eyes flashing with displeasure. “Do I have to sit with them?” He muttered, his tone low and irritated.
“Yes.” Cressida responded, her voice unwavering. With a deliberate motion, she positioned Alaric’s chair, creating a clear space between him and Felix before taking her seat beside him.
Dawson set his glass down, his eyes narrowing slightly as he turned to Cressida. “Well done,” he said, his voice dripping with approval. “I must admit, I doubted your abilities, but it seems you and Alaric have... arrangements in place.”
A small smile played on Cressida’s lips. “Thank you, sir.”
Alaric’s voice cut in, his tone acidic. “Can I leave now?” He asked Cressida, but Dawson responded instead.
“Why’d you want to?”
Alaric's expression twisted in disgust as he shot Dawson a sideways glance. “Let’s be clear,” he sneered. “I’m not here for you—there's a limit to your questions.”
Cressida could have intervened, but she chose not to, letting Alaric navigate the tension he’d created. After all, the chairman had insisted on his presence—so it’d be fair he dealt with the fallout.
“Why bother staying when my presence is distressing someone’s precious son?” Alaric sneered, his eyes flicking to Felix with disdain. He chuckled low in his throat, the sound of dripping with malice. “It seems someone’s darling is traumatized, fearing I’ll ruin his chances—chances he’ll ever truly have.”
Felix’s jaw tightened, his teeth grinding together to contain his fury. He yearned to unleash his anger on Alaric—but with Dawson watching, he was forced to swallow his retorts and seethe in silence.
Dawson sighed, his expression disappointed. “I thought it’d be a pleasant idea to have you around, but I was wrong. Maybe it’d be better if you sit at a separate table,” he suggested. His gaze swept the room until he spotted a butler and beckoned her over. “Get Alaric and his wife a separate table.”
“Right this way, ma’am,” the butler said, leading Cressida and Alaric to a vacant table. “You can sit here.”
Cressida smiled softly and nodded her thanks as she guided Alaric into position before sitting next to him.
Alaric’s fingers moved with precision, pouring himself a glass of wine without a word. He took a sip, his eyes widening slightly as he swirled the liquid in his glass. “This tastes... different.”
Cressida’s gaze followed his, her expression curious. “Different?” She repeated, her voice prompting him to elaborate.
“It’s good. Maybe it’s been too long since I’ve had a drink in public.” He commented, and as he savored the wine, his eyes gleamed with subtle pleasure, and he deliberately looked away, avoiding her gaze to maintain his composure.
Cressida’s smile softened—she sensed the depth of his enjoyment, even without eye contact. Questions swirled in her mind, but she kept them hidden, not wanting to disrupt his tranquil state.
When he reached for the bottle to refill his glass, her hand intervened, her fingers wrapping around the neck. “Let me,” she offered, her smile radiant. “I’ll pour while you savor it. It tastes great today—let's not spoil the moment.”
Their eyes met, and for a moment, Alaric’s face teetered on the edge of a smile before he regained control, nodding curtly. “Okay.”
Cressida’s smile bloomed as she poured the wine, almost filling the glass to the brim. She capped the bottle and set it aside, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Enjoy,” she said, watching as he took a long swallow. Her teasing tone followed, “you’ll be a heavy load to carry, and I doubt even the chairman will want to help get you home.”
Alaric’s laughter was low and husky as he pulled the glass away from his lips. “That’s why Easton’s always nearby. My dog doesn't stray far without its leash,” He drained the last drops and held out his glass. “Wine o’clock doesn’t happen often—pour me some more.”
His eyes met hers, a glint of mischief dancing in their depths.
Cressida nodded serenely, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “In that case, I’ll keep your glass full until you say stop,” she promised, her hand already reaching for the bottle. With a gentle pour, she filled his glass, her voice soft. “Let’s savor this moment.”
Alaric’s face relaxed, a faint smile creeping onto his lips, but he quickly reined it in as he lifted the glass. “The taste just keeps getting better.” He murmured.
Cressida’s gaze lingered on his face, her curiosity piqued. “Is smiling a sin?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “I mean, happiness isn’t a crime—why hide a smile when there's no penalty for showing it?"
Alaric’s expression turned enigmatic, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Happiness isn’t a crime, but what reason do I have to display one?” He drained his glass, tapping it on the table, his gaze meeting hers. “Your mind’s racing—why not just ask the questions?”
Cressida’s eyes widened, her thoughts tumbling out in a jumbled mess. She blinked twice, a soft “Hmm” escaping her lips. What was going on? Alaric’s unusual lightness had thrown her off balance, and she stared at him, unsure of what to say next.
“I’ve never been much of a conversationalist,” Alaric said with a hint of self-deprecation. “I struggle to start discussions, but I can follow along if someone else takes the lead. I don't like being in debt—as long as you keep pouring, I’ll answer your questions.”
Cressida’s response was soft, a gentle “Okay” before she lapsed into silence, her eyes thoughtful as she searched for the right words to begin. The moment hung suspended, her weighing her approach, careful not to shatter the fragile atmosphere or prompt Alaric to retreat.
Alaric waited expectantly, but Cressida’s silence stretched on. “Let’s just drink, if you’d rather-” he began, but she cut in softly.
“What’s different? What happened?”
Alaric’s response was measured, his left arm resting on the table as he swirled his glass with his right hand. “About what?”
Her eyes locked onto his, her voice clarifying. “About earlier. What made you change your mind?” Her lips pursed slightly, her shoulders rising in a subtle shrug. “Your attitude’s different. Is there something special about today?”
Alaric's expression turned thoughtful, his brow furrowing. “My time here is an investment with high stakes,” he explained, his tone even. “But I’m not sure which attitude you’re referring to…”
“Was it standing up to the old man, teasing Felix, or my... impressive comeback?” He asked, playfully sidestepping a direct answer.
“Introducing me.” Cressida clarified, her voice measured.
“Is there a big deal in that?” Alaric’s response was laced with amusement, his chuckle low and husky. “Or is it about my words?”
“It’s-” Cressida wanted to object, but Alaric cut her off with a laugh, his tone turning serious.
“Take nothing I say during this contract period to heart,” he warned, his eyes locked on hers with an intensity that belied his calm demeanor. “Everything I say now is just a response to the situation—nothing more,”
His voice took on a hint of desperation, his expression mirroring his words. “What I said earlier wasn’t genuine—Easton scripted the words, and I was just rehearsing on my way here. Don’t fall for it,”
His gaze held hers, his tone laced with caution. “I say what needs to be said to execute my plans. I’ll do whatever it takes to accomplish my mission. You need to guard your heart, anticipate the unexpected. We can’t avoid situations that require tactics like this.”
Cressida nodded, her gaze drifting downward, her voice barely audible. “Okay,” she whispered, forcing a smile. “I guess I should just focus on serving you.”
Alaric’s expression faltered, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Why?” He asked, his tone curious. “Is that all you wanted to ask, or did I ruin your mood?”
His voice dripped with sarcasm, a soft scoff escaping his lips. “Looks like someone can’t handle the truth—it’s always bitter, isn’t it?”
Cressida’s eyes widened slightly, her voice defensive. “It’s not about that.” Though she wanted to snap, she composed herself, raising her eyebrows and nodding slightly. “I asked to make sure nothing goes wrong. We all handle things differently,”
Her voice grew more assertive, her words spilling out in a rush. “You can’t just show up, act however you want, and expect me to be okay with it. A heads-up would’ve avoided this whole situation. Your heart might be made of stone, but I’m just a normal human.”
Alaric’s eyes half-closed, regret etched on his face. He sighed, attempting to apologize. “I’m-” But Cressida cut him off curtly.
“It’s fine,” she picked up a glass, aggressively opening the bottle to pour herself a drink. “Still bottling the moment, but serving ourselves,”
She gulped the wine, then poured another shot, her movements swift and agitated. “I’m not here on a leash, but I know I’ll return home safely.”
Alaric’s words faltered, replaced by stunned silence as he stared at Cressida. ‘I’m sorry, Cressida…’ he said in silence. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings—I never did. Please. I am sorry… I hope you’ll forgive me… please.’