YOU WON’T HAVE A TASTE OF ——
1652 Words
DARIEN’S POV.
I was following her. Not until a question struck my head. Are you really going to follow him like some four-year-old?
I stopped.
No. I wasn’t a fool. I deserved some respect and explanations for what had just happened.
“And if I don’t follow you, huh? What then?”
I stopped walking and turned to face her. She had stopped too. Eyes glaring and burning with anger, arms crossed. And there was a way she was looking at me, like she low-key admired what I wore.
But… Why was she so stubborn?
I actually thought she was sharp-mouthed. Why did she let Soraya speak to her and mock her the way she did?
Wasn’t she supposed to be fierce with her fellow woman? Or was it a man thing?
“Are you just used to disobeying people without being punished? Why don’t you obey what I say?”
Behind me, she let out a dry, annoyed laugh, like she was trying not to act like it got to her.
“You’re unbelievable, Darien,” she scoffed. “You let that woman speak to me in that manner like I was trash, and you did nothing, only to start ordering me around? Really? Bullshit.”
I didn’t say a word. Just kept walking.
Surprisingly, she followed.
Was she expecting me to apologize?
Funny.
I cleared my throat as I walked to the head of the table and sat down.
“I actually think you’re sharp-mouthed. Or is it only with men?”
I saw anger flash in her eyes as she walked toward the dining table, counting her steps. But the anger vanished immediately, and then she laughed loudly.
Very nonchalant. High-pitched.
Like she wasn’t supposed to be furious.
I was genuinely stunned by her reaction.
Adjusting in my seat, I smirked. “Is that laughter some way to hide the embarrassment I saw earlier? Trying to act strong, huh?”
“No, of course not,” she said with a smirk, pulling out a dining chair and sitting four seats away from me. “And yeah, I’m strong,” she retorted.
“Really?” I laughed.
She lifted her head, staring at me eye to eye, her lips twitching in a sly smile.
“Let’s just say it’s a way of laughing at your—” she trailed off. “Forget that. Let’s eat dinner. That’s the reason we’re here, right?” she asked, her gaze intensifying on me.
I nodded with a smirk. “Yes, Kitten.”
“Don’t call me that!” she snapped, her tone sharper, eyes slightly red.
“You don’t tell me what to call you in my house, Kitten,” I said, dragging out the word kitten longer than usual.
She laughed again, her hands hovering over the dishes as she grabbed the golden ladle to serve herself some chicken noodle soup.
And again. Her favorite.
I watched her every move, waiting for her endless questions.
Instead, she said, “In case you’ve forgotten, I live here now, Darien.”
The way she called my name sounded bitter in her mouth.
I could tell she was angry, even when she was acting tough.
“Umm… drop that,” I said, my voice sharp, cold, and commanding.
She froze mid-pour, the chicken noodle soup halfway to her plate. Slowly, she tilted her head to face me, her brows creasing in confusion like she didn’t fully understand what drop that meant.
“W-what?”
“You can’t have that,” I said coldly, my voice grim.
“W-why can’t I?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.
“You heard me clearly, and I don’t repeat myself twice,” I said blandly. I didn’t care how she felt. She needed to be put in her place.
She blinked.
Blinked again.
Like her brain was trying to fully process the order.
And finally, she quietly dropped the ladle.
I could feel the embarrassment—maybe anger—radiating off her.
She swallowed but didn’t say a word. She only looked away from me. The seriousness in my eyes and tone must have said a lot.
I raised my left hand to my face, unlocking the screen on my watch. I sent a voicemail to Miss Vivian.
‘In the dining room. Now.’
I didn’t wait for her response. I locked the watch, grabbed my dark red wine, and gulped it down in one go.
I didn’t know what I was doing, but something I couldn’t name boiled beneath my skin.
I was about to grab the wine bottle and pour another glass when Miss Vivian walked into the dining room.
She bowed. “You sent for me, Captain,” she murmured.
I didn’t say a word. My gaze shifted to Vionne, who sat there with her arms crossed, probably thinking about what she’d gotten herself into… or maybe still speechless and irritated by everything.
“Stand up, Kitten,” I ordered.
“Excuse me?” she retorted, glaring harder at me.
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” I murmured quietly, my voice clipped.
“And if I don’t? Who exactly do you think you are that you can order me around?” she barked, standing to her feet. “Take a look at me. Do I look like some four-year-old you can order around?”
“If you won’t obey, then leave!”
“You’re a beast. For God’s sake, I’m damn h—” she trailed off, biting her red lips.
I smirked.
“Remain standing, Kitten,” I said to her before drifting my gaze to Miss Vivian, who was already trembling.
I cleared my throat, taking a deep breath.
“Tell me, Vivian. Is this the dress I asked her to wear for dinner?”
Silence.
No one moved.
“Answer me!” I slammed my hand against the table, making it shake violently as the dishes trembled.
“N-no, sir,” she stuttered, her face lowered to the floor.
I could feel Vionne’s gaze on me, like she was trying to understand if my anger was really because of the dress she didn’t wear… or something else.
Actually, even I didn’t know.
“You are seriously crazy,” she muttered, sitting hard on the dining chair, her hands already reaching for the ladle again.
So I made it clear.
“You won’t have that. Not even a taste.”
“You don’t mean it, Da—”
Just then, her stomach betrayed her by growling loudly, and I swear I almost laughed.
She stared at me, searching for any sign that I hadn’t heard it. Then she glanced down at her stomach, rubbing it with her left hand.
“Please, C-Captain,” Vivian pleaded, rubbing her palms together with pleading eyes.
I shot her a look, and she dashed out immediately.
She was getting too attached to Vionne.
I hoped she hadn’t forgotten the rules.
“Earlier,” I said, rising to my feet, “I told you you were going to get punished, didn’t I?”
She didn’t say a word.
Wasn’t even looking at me.
She was quiet. Calm.
Like she’d forgotten how to talk and throw sarcasm around.
“And this is your punishment,” I said, already standing behind her. “You’ll go back to your room and wear the dress I asked you to wear.”
She turned slightly to look at me, disbelief written all over her face.
I continued, “And if you don’t, you aren’t tasting any food tonight. This serves as punishment, and with this, I’m sure you’ll learn to stop being disobedient to Daddy.”
She was still quiet.
Processing.
Boiling.
Maybe gritting her teeth.
“Go already, Kitten.” I bent to whisper into her ear, rubbing her hair lightly.
Her body tensed instantly at my touch.
“Get off me!” She yanked my hand away and quickly got to her feet.
“Good girl. I love your obedience.” I smirked, loving every second of it.
But she wasn’t going to wear the dress.
She stood there glaring at me, jaw tight, heart thumping fast.
I could see the anger burning in her beautiful eyes.
I loved it.
“I won’t do such a thing. You don’t tell me what to wear for dinner. By the way, we’re having dinner at home.”
“My house. My money. My rules,” I said. “You let another woman speak to you however she wanted, and now you challenge me, Kitten?”
“Either you wear that dress, or you go have a good night’s rest because I mean every word I said,” I stated clearly.
And then the next question she asked—I hadn’t expected it now. Maybe earlier, but not now.
“Who was that lady?” she asked, her eyes suspicious.
“That’s not important,” I answered too quickly.
“Same as the dress,” she shot back.
I chuckled.
“Your decision,” I said, walking back to my seat without giving her a second glance.
I served myself and started eating.
“What the f**k? You’ll eat and let me starve, huh?”
I sipped my soup. “You decided to starve, Kitten. That was your decision, not mine.”
“I’m not doing this anymore… I’m out of here. This house,” she emphasized.
“Sounds good.” I drank my soup again, looking completely unbothered. “If you don’t mind, I’ll ask my driver to drop you off,” I said, pouring myself more wine.
She froze mid-step, staring at me like I hadn’t just granted her request for the first time since she got here.
She should’ve been grateful to me.
But one thing…
What if she actually left?
Then everything would become interestingly complicated.
Because she had no idea the kind of mistake she was about to make.
- Writer
