Marriage by choice

Chapter 6

Jael’s POV

I couldn’t help but smirk at Mauritius’ reaction. His glare was ice-cold, practically radiating murder, but I pretended not to notice. Let him stew in his silent rage; I wasn’t about to apologize for calling his grandfather “Dad.”

Instead, I turned back to the older man with a warm smile, masking my nerves. “Sorry for the—”

“Grandpa, it’s good to see you,” Mauritius interrupted smoothly, his tone clipped. He stepped forward and kissed the back of the older man’s hand with such reverence it stunned me into silence.

“Wait… Grandpa? Then where’s his dad?” My mind raced as embarrassment crept up my neck.

“You forgot about this old gramps already, huh?” the man teased, his expression mock-wounded.

Before I could stammer a response, a deep, commanding voice cut through the air like a whip.

“I was wondering what the commotion was all about.”

My head snapped toward the source, and I froze. A man stepped into view who looked so much like Mauritius I had to glance beside me to confirm he hadn’t magically moved across the room.

“That’s his dad,” Mauritius murmured, his breath brushing against my ear.

“Well, obviously,” I hissed under my breath, still irritated he hadn’t clarified sooner.

The man wasn’t alone. Beside him stood a tall, regal woman with an air of command so potent it could’ve crushed lesser mortals. Her stride was graceful, her gaze sharp and assessing. She had the same gray eyes as Mauritius, contrasting with the man’s piercing blue. Her long, loose hair shimmered with a deep purple hue, and the way she carried herself made me feel like a child playing dress-up.

“Honeycomb,” she greeted Mauritius affectionately, her voice soft but tinged with authority.

“Good day, Mom.” Mauritius inclined his head, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to it, just as he’d done with his grandfather. “And, as always, I’d appreciate it if you referred to me by my given name.”

Her response was a faint smile that somehow conveyed both amusement and dismissal.

How dare he talk like that to such an incredible woman? I felt an irrational flash of anger on her behalf.

“And who is this?” she asked, her gray eyes locking onto me.

The intensity of her gaze made my heart race, but before I could open my mouth, Mauritius spoke again.

“We’ll discuss once we’re settled,” he said coldly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“You’re welcome,” she replied smoothly, her smile softening as her gaze lingered on me.

---

The dining room was a masterpiece of luxury, with a long black marble table that gleamed under a crystal chandelier. Twelve high-backed chairs lined its length, and the air was thick with an unspoken tension that made my stomach churn.

I reached out to pull a chair for myself, but Mauritius beat me to it. Without a word, he dragged the chair out and waited for me to sit.

I stared at him, bewildered. The Mauritius I knew didn’t do gentlemanly. His face gave nothing away as he pushed my chair in and sat beside me.

The entire room went silent. Every pair of eyes was locked on us, as though we’d just performed some bizarre, out-of-character ritual.

Oh. It’s an act. The realization hit me like a slap.

“So, who—” his mother began, but Mauritius cut her off again.

“The food hasn’t even—”

I’d had enough. Placing a hand on his, I gave him a small, deliberate smile. “Thank you, Mauritius,” I said softly. The words were pointed, but my tone was sweet.

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue.

Turning to his mother, I forced myself to remain calm. “Apologies for the late introduction. I’m Jael Davis.” My voice was steady, though I felt like I was walking a tightrope.

Her expression softened, and she nodded approvingly. “Nice to meet you, Jael.”

“I’d love to know more about all of you,” I continued, flashing a small smile. “But Von didn’t tell me anything until today. He’s never really mentioned his family before.”

Mauritius’ spoon froze midair. Slowly, he turned to look at me, his icy gray eyes piercing into mine like daggers. I met his gaze briefly before shrugging, feigning innocence.

“Von?” his parents chorused, their shock almost comical.

“That’s what she calls him,” his grandfather said with a chuckle. “Sweet, isn’t it?”

His mother and father exchanged a glance, their expressions unreadable.

“Yeah, he’s ……like that,” she finally said, her voice light but her eyes sharp as she watched me curiously.

Wait… is calling him “Von” forbidden?

“You’re so pretty,” she said suddenly, her voice warm.

“Thank you, ma’am,” I replied shyly, my cheeks heating.

“You know, you’re the first woman he’s ever brought home,” she continued, her tone almost conspiratorial.

“Mom,” Mauritius snapped, his voice like a whip as he set his spoon down with a sharp clink.

“What? It’s true.” She shrugged, entirely unfazed by his glare.

She turned back to me with a fond smile. “Sweetie, please eat.”

I picked up my spoon, trying to ignore the stifling weight of Mauritius’ simmering anger beside me.

As I began eating, she reached over, piling food onto my plate with enthusiasm. She was about to add shrimp when Mauritius stopped her.

“She doesn’t eat shrimp,” he said curtly.

I froze, staring at him in shock.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” his mother said, quickly retracting the shrimp.

“No problem,” I murmured, forcing a small smile.

How does he know that?

I glanced at him, but he was calmly eating, his expression unreadable. The casual way he moved, as though this were a routine dinner and not my first encounter with his family, unnerved me.

His father and grandfather were watching us closely, their gazes heavy with unspoken questions.

“How’s the food?” Mauritius Father asked suddenly, his voice smooth but loud enough to silence the room as he directed the question to me.

My breath hitched. Why did he have to single me out? I swallowed hard, raising my eyes to meet his father’s expectant gaze. “ What am I supposed to say!” I thought, panicking.

“It’s… really tasty,” I managed, my voice quiet. “I haven’t had a dish this good before—well, except for my mom’s.” I added the last part with a nervous laugh, hoping to lighten the mood.

The table remained silent, and I felt every muscle in my body tense.

He leaned back in his chair, his cold eyes boring into mine. “I suppose your mother must be quite the cook,” he said, focusing back on his food.

I couldn't help but feel a subtle challenge in his words, nor was the way everyone seemed to hold their breath lost on me.

“Yes, she is,” I replied, forcing my voice to stay steady.

His mother smiled warmly, but I could feel Mauritius staring at him.

Oh no. I f****d up, right?