The Family Dinner
919 Words
Chapter 4: The Family Dinner
Leila had never worn a dress like this before.
The deep emerald satin clung to her curves in a way that felt both terrifying and elegant. Her hair, normally tied in a practical bun, was curled and pinned to one side, her lips painted a soft rose. She barely recognized herself in the full-length mirror.
A knock came at the door.
“Come in,” she said softly.
Zara poked her head in through a video call on Leila’s phone, laughing. “Damn, girl. Are you sure you’re not the billionaire in this arrangement?”
Leila rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t deny the small thrill in her chest. “I look ridiculous.”
“No,” Zara grinned. “You look like trouble. That man won’t know what hit him.”
As if on cue, another knock — this time real — came from the hallway. Damian entered, wearing a sleek navy-blue suit and a watch that probably cost more than her entire flower shop.
His eyes paused on her for a beat. A slow beat.
“You clean up well,” he said, voice even but low.
Leila raised an eyebrow. “Is that your version of a compliment?”
He walked closer, reaching into his inner pocket and pulling out a small velvet box. “Wear this.”
Inside was a silver necklace, delicate and beautiful, with a single emerald at the center — the same color as her dress.
She hesitated. “Is this real?”
“It better be,” he said. “It cost enough.”
Leila took a breath, turned, and let him clasp it around her neck. His fingers brushed her skin briefly — light, but enough to send a shiver down her spine.
When she turned back around, his gaze was unreadable again. Guarded.
“Ready to face your family?” she asked.
He gave a tight nod. “They’re not the problem. The media will be there.”
“What?”
He looked at her directly. “You’re not just convincing my parents tonight. You’re introducing yourself to the world.”
Her heart dropped into her stomach.
The Cole family estate for formal events was even more grand than Damian’s personal mansion. Cars lined the cobblestone driveway, reporters waited behind velvet ropes, and the flash of cameras turned the night into day.
As they stepped out of the car, Damian took her hand in his without warning.
She tensed.
He leaned in, smiling at her like they were a love story in motion. “Relax. You’re doing great.”
She forced a smile. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he led her up the marble steps, hand still warm around hers.
Inside, the hall glittered with gold chandeliers and wealthy guests in designer clothing. Leila felt eyes on her from every direction — judging, analyzing, whispering.
She held her head higher.
A tall, commanding man with sharp features and graying hair approached. He had the same piercing eyes as Damian — but colder. Harsher.
“Father,” Damian said stiffly. “This is Leila. My fiancée.”
The man’s gaze swept over her like an x-ray. “Is that so?”
Leila extended her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”
He didn’t take it.
“Where is she from?” he asked Damian instead.
Damian’s jaw clenched. “She runs a flower shop. She’s… grounded.”
The older man raised an eyebrow. “Grounded, or cheap?”
Leila’s cheeks flushed. She wanted to say something — anything — but Damian’s grip on her hand tightened just slightly.
“She’s real,” he said firmly. “That’s what matters.”
After a tense silence, his father finally turned away. “We’ll see.”
Later, seated at the massive dining table surrounded by glassy-eyed guests and fake laughter, Leila leaned in toward Damian.
“Is this how your family always is?”
He kept his eyes on his plate. “No. Tonight they’re being nice.”
She didn’t laugh. He wasn’t joking.
As the night wore on, Leila played her role flawlessly. She laughed at Damian’s stories. She let her hand rest on his arm. She caught the curious glances of other women in the room — most of them clearly stunned that this was the woman Damian had chosen.
But the moment she couldn’t stop thinking about happened as dessert was served.
Someone — a thin, blonde woman sitting across the table — leaned forward and said sweetly, “So, Leila, do you have a real job? Or are you just here to play dress-up?”
Leila smiled, tight but polite. “I own a flower shop. I create bouquets for weddings, birthdays, and funerals. Which one are we celebrating tonight?”
A couple guests chuckled into their wine glasses.
Damian’s lips twitched — just barely.
After dinner, as they stepped out into the warm night air, he looked down at her.
“Impressive comeback,” he said.
Leila didn’t look at him. “You’re surrounded by snakes.”
“They’re my family.”
“I didn’t say it like it was a compliment.”
He paused. “Still… thank you. For tonight.”
She finally glanced up. “You’re welcome. But don’t forget — I’m doing this for the money.”
His expression darkened slightly. “I haven’t forgotten.”
But the way his gaze lingered on her lips as she turned away?
That said otherwise.
- Writer
