TRISTAN DEVILLE IS THAT DEVILLE!
1731 Words
Sapphire hasn't stopped thanking her luck since she came outside the house. Her painting bag in one hand, her purse in the other. Wilson and Yvonne weren't at home. Not like she's scared of them, but answering their stupid questions or hearing their taunts this evening was something she wasn't in the mood for.
Her expression remained the same when she heard a car honk outside. Before the security guard could check who was at the gate, since the automatic gate couldn't let him in as it didn't recognize either the person or the car, she beat him to it.
"Don't worry. It's here for me." She flashed him an okay smile before leaving the house.
Getting outside, she saw the car. Her brow narrowed, instantly recognizing this wasn't the one that took her home yesterday.
Mysterious, and now she's wondering how insanely rich he might be.
The driver didn't bother to step out of the car, neither was she expecting it. She went to the back and tried to open the boot. It didn't budge. While waiting for the driver to open the boot, her eyes landed on the car's plate number, then the name. Rolls Royce!
Okay, she's going to act surprised. She has seen expensive cars but not being changed frequently like we're changing baby diapers. Wilson drives a car at least three months before changing. Her father rarely changes his car, but him—she's entered first class cars in less than two days.
The boot lifted open on its own, and she dropped her painting bag.
Entering the passenger seat, she fastened her seatbelt while the driver reversed the car, and their journey to his family house began.
She looked in front, and her face tightened in a knot when she had a clear view of the driver.
"Aren't you the... reception lady?" She asked, surprised.
No reply.
"What are you doing here?"
"T asked me to get you." Her reply was curt.
"T? Who's that? Dr. Tristan?"
The car came to an abrupt stop, and the lady looked at her through the rear-view mirror. "Why does it matter? Keep quiet and let me drive." She turned the steering wheel.
Sapphire gulped, dying in confusion and curiosity. Her eyes aren't deceiving her. She's damn sure she's the lady at the hospital who always repeats her statement.
"His family... have any idea who they are or how they are? The surname is that of me—"
"Every question will be answered once you get there."
From the lady's reply, Sapphire could tell she wouldn't answer more questions. She sank into the chair and fixed her gaze outside the window.
Absentmindedly, she began drawing invisible lines on the window bar.
--
The drive was roughly thirty minutes, and Sapphire could tell they were approaching since the car had unusually slowed down, unlike the usual speed it was initially driving at.
Sapphire had long sat up, looking across both windows as they drove down the family's street. Only she could tell how many times she'd wanted to ask questions, but seeing the lady act like nobody was in the car with her, she just had to keep quiet.
Why are we going here?
The car's speed increased again. She couldn't make out the move it did, but it came to a sharp halt.
She squinted her eyes, trying to see the famous names in this city, but couldn't see it since the car had already gotten into the compound.
"Where are we?" she asked, staring at the familiar building.
Could this be...
She pushed away the thought before she could even complete it.
It's not possible. It's just not. If it were them, she'd know. She's known that family for over five years, and they—
"Now would be the perfect time to get down," the lady's voice brought her back to the present. "T is waiting."
T?
That was when she had a clearer look and saw Dr. Tristan waiting for her in front of the house.
When did he get here? Or could she not have seen him?
Her hand struggled to hold the door handle since it was shaking all of a sudden.
The house looked like something she had seen a million times. Dr. Tristan DeVille, that last name she had heard a million times. But the DeVille family had never mentioned having a distant relative or son. His name wasn't present in the DeVille's family when she Googled his name. Then why these weird feelings?
She got out of the car and checked herself out in the car's mirror. Thanks to the lights that came out of the house, it didn't feel like nighttime had reached. It's just exactly how the DeVille's house is. Night never reaches them except when they want it.
She wore a simple knee-length black gown and not-too-high heels. Satisfied at her dressing, she walked towards him while trying to keep her legs steady.
"I'll drive the car back to the penthouse," the lady informed.
"What's the state of the penthouse?"
"It's getting cleaned as we speak."
"Stay around. You'll take us back," Tristan instructed, finally laying his eyes on Sapphire.
Sapphire didn't need him to say it outright for her to know he was checking her out.
"This house—"
"I'm leaving." The lady walked away.
Sapphire waited until she was out of sight before facing Tristan.
"This house... Is it your family's house?"
"Would I have brought you to a stranger's house?"
His reply was something Sapphire expected. Commanding, with a sprinkle of a word Sapphire couldn't think of. It wasn't rude, but it always had that strange calmness that crosses the line between rude and calm.
"I didn't mean that," she exhaled. "The house looks like—"
"They're waiting for us." He began going in.
Sapphire bit her bottom lip, staring at his retreating figure, hating the way her heart had refused to calm down since she got here.
It's never calm whenever she's with him, but being in his house and his presence all together, she's sure it's loud enough even to that lady's ears.
She followed him, biting her tongue repeatedly at the familiarity that kept throwing itself at her.
--
The dining table was not less than expected. If last time was filled, this time it's exceptionally stacked with different delicious delicacies. Even some restaurants couldn't provide the type of food that was on the table. No dish was missing. Every Las Vegas food, both traditional and modern, can be seen on that table.
Tracy sniffed in enough air, exhaling sweetly. "I knew the old man wouldn't disappoint." She quickly sat on the chair and took in her set of cutleries.
Just when she was about to dig in, somebody held her hand.
"How dare—" Tracy looked up, and the angry word turned into a surprise, smiling look. "Yvonne? You're here?"
"You know the old man prepared this food specially for Tristan and HIS wife?"
"Can't help it. They smell so nice. You know because of this dinner, I didn't eat today. I was waiting," she dropped her fork. "Since I've waited this long, I can wait. By the way, what are you doing here?"
"She came with me." Wilson appeared beside Yvonne and they both took their seats.
Tracy raised her hand. "I'm not gonna say a thing."
"Well I would," Theodore's voice sounded from the stairs. He and Rosa walked down the stairs in their usual grace and aura.
"This dinner was supposed to be a family's dinner. Our family," Rosa added, taking her seat.
"Mom, Yvonne is my friend," Tracy said. "You both know that?"
"He's supposed to come here with Sapphire," Marco walked to the table and took his spot as the head of the family. "Wilson, why isn't Sapphire here?"
"She isn't feeling well," Wilson lied. "At the last minute, she felt sick. I didn't want to come here, but I know how important this dinner is. It's Tristan's wife we're all here to see. Let's all see the woman he's hired to play the role of his wife."
"He might have a girlfriend. Remember he didn't grow up staying with us?" Rosa said.
"If he did, he should have said so rather than taking up a stupid challenge," Wilson hissed. "I think coming here is a big joke. A hired wife doesn't count, right old man?"
"The instructions were to get a wife in three days. Hired or not, Gramps didn't specify," Tristan replied from the entrance, his cold steps echoing through the room.
Yvonne was the first to turn.
Wilson cackled. "Finally he's here." Wilson stood, glancing over Tristan's shoulder. "Couldn't find a shameless slut or helpless woman to play the perfect wife role?"
"Wilson," Marco cautioned, facing Tristan. "Let's have dinner."
"Don't you all want to see my wife?" He gave a slow, amused smile. "My younger brother is so eager. Let me fulfill that little wish of his." His gaze locked on Wilson—coldly, darkly, meaningfully. "Don't get too shocked."
"Come in."
In slow motion, the door creaked open, softly and calmly, almost like something fragile human pushed. The sound of her heels followed next.
Anticipation grew in the room. Tracy's head was tilted towards the door. Yvonne and Wilson's eyes were hooked on the door. Rosa and Theodore had that calm stoic expression as their gazes were on the door. Marco tapped gently on the table, also looking at the door.
Then she stepped in, her body becoming visible to every single breathing person in the room.
Yvonne and Tracy were the first to spring up. Wilson looked like he was still trying to process the news. The calmness on Rosa and Theodore's face was replaced by shock. Marco's finger instantly stopped moving as they all stared at the lady who walked in.
"S... Sapphire!" Wilson was the first to exclaim.
In that same manner, Sapphire's eyes had the same expression as all of them mixed together. Shock. Confusion. Realization.
Her eyes slowly went from Marco to Theodore, Rosa, Tracy, Yvonne and lastly, the scumbag of the husband she married, Wilson DeVille.
Like a tsunami, every piece began adding up. The two princes' return. The man that stalled the wedding. The name tag. The paranoid feeling. The cut-off when she asked questions.
Tristan DeVille is that same DeVille!
- Writer
