Manners
1027 Words
Theodore Myers POV
Irene wasn't eating. Her plate sat full in front of her, untouched, eyes cast down as if the food held some answer she was still searching for. She didn't even acknowledge my words.
My family always had that effect on people. Not that it would help her. She was the one who chose to marry me, probably imagining some gilded life waiting on the other side of the altar. She was learning now what she'd actually walked into.
I was enjoying every second of it.
"Theodore, since you didn't attend the wedding, what's the plan for the reception?"
My attention pulled from Irene and settled on Sammy. "None of you attended either, if we're keeping score. As for the reception, I'm sure Lilith can sort that out. She's my mother, after all. She'd be thrilled."
Mother. The word sat bitter behind my teeth. She had never been one, not in any way that counted. My mask hid the disgust well enough.
"I would have been thrilled if this girl weren't the bride." Lilith's nose curled like something had gone sour in the air. "Introducing her when it should have been Misha. Her sister wasn't much better, but at least she was decent compared to whatever this is."
Irene flinched. She was right beside me, and no matter how hard she tried to swallow it down, her body gave her away.
"Still, will you let people talk about our family because we didn't hold a reception?" I knew her well enough. She would do anything to protect the family name, and that included tolerating this whole arrangement, every uncomfortable inch of it.
Not me, though. I loved what this substitute bride of mine brought with her. Watching her existence alone unravel my family was its own quiet entertainment.
Dragging Irene here had been as literal as it sounded. She'd fought it. I hadn't expected to enjoy her resistance so much, but there it was. Something about her reluctance made the whole thing sharper, more interesting.
Sammy huffed. "We can't afford more embarrassment."
My hand slid along Irene's thigh. "What do you think, Irene? Any suggestions for the reception?"
Her head snapped toward me, eyes cutting, jaw tight. She was seething and trying not to show it. I didn't know when riling her up had become something I looked forward to, but it had settled in like a habit.
Lilith and Sammy were glaring. Xinac and Jamey kept their heads down over their plates.
"Don't scare my wife." The smile pulling at my mouth stayed hidden behind the mask.
Irene's hand closed over mine, trying to move it. The leather of my glove kept it from being skin to skin, but the warmth of her pressed through anyway. She wasn't strong enough to shift my hand even slightly, and she seemed to know it.
"We're not scaring her." Sammy lifted her coffee without looking up. "She's scaring us with that face and that poorness."
Irene went still. Her hand stopped. Whatever fight had been in it drained out all at once.
Something moved in my chest at the sight of it. Something I hadn't expected and couldn't name.
"We're leaving."
Albert was already moving before I finished the words. He knew the cue.
Even though I'd been enjoying it, watching Irene like this, pulling strings I couldn't quite name.
"Should I, Young Master?" Albert asked, his hands settling on the grips of my wheelchair.
I nodded. "Stand up, Irene. We're leaving."
She hadn't touched a single morsel. I knew she wouldn't.
Without another word, she stood. Faster than I expected, like she'd been waiting for the out.
She had to be. There was no way she'd enjoyed a single second of this, not with my family. I didn't enjoy it either. They were the kind of people no one willingly shared a room with—except the ones who got something out of stroking their egos.
Albert pulled my wheelchair forward. Irene fell into step beside me, matching the wheelchair's pace without being asked. Almost cute.
‘Get it together, Theodore.’ My conscience had no patience for this.
This was taking a toll on me, no matter how much I'd enjoyed it. Something was happening, and I didn't know what to call it.
"Your pants are on fire," I said as we stepped out of the mansion. No lie. She really did look like that.
Irene exhaled. "I'm already late for my classes. Better my pants on fire than whatever this is."
"I'll give you a ride." The main door slid open. My car was already waiting. "You won't catch a ride out here. This is private property. No one's coming for you, and I doubt you'd find your way out on your own."
"Okay." Why is she suddenly so obedient?
She walked to the car, pulled the door open, and got in. No hesitation, no waiting for me.
"Young Master, we have something important to attend to," Albert reminded me.
"So my wife is less important?"
Something about saying it—wife—settled in my chest in a way I didn't examine too closely.
"No, Young Master. Never." His voice was steady, unreadable. That was Albert.
It had been years, and he'd never once sounded anything less than composed. It was why I kept him.
"We'll drop her first. Then we attend to it."
"As you wish, Young Master."
He helped me into the car, then took the front seat. The partition rose, sealing us off. The engine came to life.
"Need to tell the address?" She was still looking out the window.
The question almost made me laugh. The moment she'd signed that marriage certificate, the Myers family had catalogued everything about her. As her husband, I had it all.
It was exactly why my family despised her. More than they'd ever despised her sister. The substitute arrangement sat wrong with them. Her sister had been bad enough—and now this.
"Figures," she answered flatly.
"You have no manners. Look at someone when you speak to them."
She turned her head. "Not like I can see anything, even when I do.”
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