The Dragon's Den
969 Words
Katherine's POV
The twenty-foot doors swung open before we could knock, revealing a butler so perfectly composed he looked like he'd been carved from marble. His silver hair was swept back, his posture immaculate, and his eyes assessed me in a single, practiced glance.
"Mr. O'Connor. Mrs. O'Connor." He bowed slightly. "Mr. and Mrs. O'Connor Senior are waiting in the east dining room."
I felt Mikel's hand find the small of my back, a grounding pressure that kept me from fleeing. "Thank you, Gerald."
We walked through an entryway that could have housed my entire apartment building. Crystal chandeliers hung from vaulted ceilings. A grand staircase curved upward, its banister polished to a mirror shine. Oil paintings of stern-faced ancestors watched us pass, their eyes seeming to follow my every step.
"Don't look at the paintings," Mikel murmured, his lips barely moving. "They're all dead, and they don't care who you are."
"Is that supposed to be comforting?"
"It's honest."
We entered the east dining room, and I forgot how to breathe.
The room was enormous, dominated by a table that could seat thirty. Crystal vases overflowing with fresh flowers sat at precise intervals. China was so delicate it looked like it would shatter if I breathed too hard. It was arranged before each setting.
And at the head of the table sat two people who looked like they'd stepped out of a magazine spread.
Mikel's mother, Eleanor O'Connor, was beautiful in the way that expensive things are beautiful—perfectly maintained, carefully curated, and utterly untouchable.
Beside her sat Patrick O'Connor, Mikel's father. He was tall even while sitting down, with the kind of commanding presence that made you want to stand up straighter. His eyes, a sharp, assessing blue, fixed on me the moment I entered the room.
"Father. Mother." Mikel's voice was calm. "This is Katherine."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Eleanor's eyes swept over me, cataloging every detail—the cream silk blouse, the navy blazer, the gold studs. I saw her note that I wasn't wearing a wedding ring yet, that my shoes were new, that I looked like I was playing dress-up in someone else's life.
"So," Eleanor said finally, her voice like winter wind. "You're the girl my son has been hiding."
"I'm not hiding her, Mother. I was waiting for the right moment."
"The right moment." Patrick's voice was deep and utterly without warmth. "And what, exactly, is the right moment to announce you've married a woman we've never met?"
Mikel pulled out a chair for me, his hand never leaving my back. "I didn't realize I needed your permission to marry."
"You need our approval to bring someone into this family," Eleanor said. "There are standards, Mikel. Reputations to protect."
"Mother, can we not start with that?"
The warning in Mikel's voice was unmistakable, and for a moment, Eleanor's mask slipped.
"That's enough, honey," Patrick's voice came out commanding. "We can save all of that till after the meal."
"Alright, honey," Eleanor smiled even if it was obvious it didn't reach her eyes.
"You can have your seat. Both of you."
I sat down on the edge of the chair, but I could feel the tension in my spine. Mikel settled beside me, close enough that his knee brushed mine under the table. The small contact was an anchor.
The first course arrived—a delicate soup served in bowls so thin I could see the pattern of the china through them. I stared at the spoon in front of me, trying to remember which one to use.
"Katherine," Patrick began, his voice carrying the weight of a CEO addressing a subordinate. "My son told me you attended the same high school. That you were classmates."
"Yes, sir. We were in the same history class."
"And what is your current occupation?"
I felt Mikel stiffen beside me. "Father, that's hardly—"
"Let her answer, Mikel." Patrick didn't look away from me. "If she's going to be a part of this family, she should be able to speak for herself."
I took a breath. "I was working as a personal assistant at Richmond Industries. But I no longer work there?"
"Why did you resign?" Patrick asked.
"I was no longer comfortable working there and I needed something better."
Eleanor's eyebrow arched. "And by better, you mean marrying my son?"
"It was a mutual decision," I said carefully. "Mikel and I... we've known each other a long time. We reconnected recently, and things moved quickly."
"Things moved quickly." Patrick's voice was flat. "How quickly exactly?"
"The timeline of our relationship is between us," Mikel intervened. "We're married. That's what matters."
"Married," Eleanor repeated. "Without a ring. Without a wedding. Without so much as a phone call to tell us you were even seeing someone. Forgive me if I find that suspicious."
"Mother, I don't need your forgiveness. I'm telling you who my wife is. The rest is irrelevant."
The tension at the table was so thick I could barely breathe. I watched Eleanor's face, searching for any c***k in her mask. Instead, she turned to me.
"Tell me about your family, Katherine."
"I... my grandmother raised me. She's in the hospital now—she has osteoporosis. I've been working to pay for her treatment."
"And your parents?"
"My mother died when I was young and my father remarried."
"Remarried." Eleanor's smile was sharp.
"Mother, that's enough," Mikel said. "Katherine's family history is not up for discussion."
"It's precisely up for discussion," Patrick said calmly. "A woman's past speaks to her character. And from what I can see, Katherine's past is... complicated."
I felt the tears building behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.
"Tell me Katherine. Do you have what it takes to be an O' Connor?"
- Writer
