Dangerously Yours

Chapter Four – The Dinner Table Complaint

The Carter estate was the kind of home that whispered of old money and new success. From the wrought-iron gates at the front to the manicured lawns and marble steps leading up to the double oak doors, everything about it spoke of elegance and order.

Inside, chandeliers glimmered overhead, polished floors reflected the evening light, and the faint scent of rosemary and roasted garlic floated in the air. Cecilia slipped out of her school shoes at the door and walked into the dining room, her bag slung carelessly over her shoulder.

The long mahogany table was already set for three, a vase of fresh roses in the center. Her mother, Eleanor Carter, sat gracefully at the far end, flipping through a glossy magazine, her dark hair swept into a sleek bun. Her father, Jonathan Carter, stood near the cabinet, pouring himself a glass of wine before joining them.

“Good evening, sweetheart,” her mother greeted warmly, her eyes lifting from the magazine. “How was school?”

Cecilia dropped her bag onto the nearest chair with a heavy sigh, dramatically pulling out her seat. “Awful. Completely awful.”

Jonathan raised an eyebrow as he settled at the head of the table. “Awful? Or just another battle with Hayes?”

Cecilia blinked. “How—how do you always know?”

“Because, darling,” her mother said, setting the magazine aside, “your entire mood tends to revolve around that boy. If you’re sulking, it’s usually because of him. Am I wrong?”

Cecilia pouted, stabbing her fork into the salad placed neatly before her. “Not sulking. Just…frustrated.”

Her father smirked, swirling his wine. “Same difference.”

Dinner was served in courses, as always—first a light salad, then roasted chicken with herbs, mashed potatoes, and asparagus. The maids moved quietly, placing dishes and retreating without a word, leaving the family cocooned in their polished world.

For a few minutes, silence lingered, broken only by the clink of silverware. But Cecilia’s frown deepened with each bite until finally, her mother set down her fork and gave her a pointed look.

“All right, out with it,” Eleanor said. “What did he do this time?”

Cecilia groaned. “It’s not just what he did. It’s what the teachers did. They paired us up for the new project in Biology. Me and him. Together.” She threw her hands up dramatically. “It’s a nightmare come true.”

Jonathan chuckled, cutting into his chicken. “Ah, forced collaboration. Classic.”

“Not funny, Dad!” Cecilia exclaimed, leaning forward. “Do you realize what this means? Hours stuck with him. Listening to him call me ‘Princess’ and acting like he’s better than me just because he won one debate!”

Her mother arched an eyebrow. “Still on about that debate?”

“It was humiliating,” Cecilia snapped, her cheeks heating at the memory. “In front of the whole school, he dismantled me. And now everyone still brings it up like it was the highlight of the century.”

Jonathan set down his glass, his expression calm but firm. “Then treat this project as an opportunity. If he outsmarted you once, prove you’ve learned since then. Outwork him. Outperform him. That’s how you silence rivals—not by sulking at the dinner table.”

Cecilia scowled. Her father always saw life as a competition, a battle to be won through strategy and determination. It made him a successful businessman, sure, but sometimes she just wanted a little sympathy.

Her mother, softer in tone, reached across the table and touched Cecilia’s hand. “Darling, maybe this isn’t such a curse. Sometimes the people who challenge us the most are the ones we learn from.”

Cecilia gaped. “Learn from Caleb? Mother, please. He’s insufferable. He—he doesn’t respect me, he mocks me, and…” She faltered, stabbing her potato with unnecessary force. “…and he’s arrogant.”

“Arrogant?” Jonathan’s lips curved in amusement. “Or confident?”

“Same thing.”

“No, not quite,” Eleanor said gently. “Arrogance comes from entitlement. Confidence comes from hard work. Caleb…he’s on scholarship, isn’t he?”

Cecilia rolled her eyes. “Yes. And he never lets anyone forget it. Always parading it around like some badge of honor.”

Her father’s tone sharpened just slightly. “Well, maybe it is a badge of honor. Do you realize how hard it is to earn and maintain a scholarship at Ridgeway? That boy doesn’t have the advantages you’ve had. He fights for his place there every single day. You could stand to respect that.”

The words hit harder than Cecilia expected. She blinked, caught between indignation and guilt.

Respect Caleb? Impossible. And yet…something about her father’s words lodged itself in her chest, uncomfortable and heavy.

Her mother leaned back in her chair, studying her daughter’s conflicted face. “You don’t have to like him, Cecilia. But you do need to learn how to work with people who aren’t like you. Life will throw many ‘Calebs’ in your path. Consider this practice.”

Cecilia sighed deeply, her appetite fading. She knew her parents were right—annoyingly right—but she couldn’t admit it aloud. Not when just thinking about Caleb’s smug grin made her want to scream.

“Fine,” she muttered at last, pushing her food around her plate. “I’ll…tolerate him. For the sake of the project. But that’s it.”

Her father smirked knowingly. “We’ll see.”

Her mother smiled softly, her eyes sparkling with a kind of quiet amusement Cecilia didn’t understand.

---

Later that night, after dinner, Cecilia retreated to her room. Her sanctuary. The walls were painted a soft cream, decorated with shelves stacked neatly with novels, trophies from academic competitions, and photographs of family vacations abroad. A king-sized bed with a velvet throw blanket dominated the space, and the large window overlooked the city lights beyond the estate gates.

She dropped onto the bed, pulling out her notebook, flipping to the page where she’d scribbled the project details.

Biology project. Partner: Caleb Hayes.

At the top, in bold letters, she had written the teacher’s announcement from earlier: “Today, we’re starting a semester-long project. You’ll be working in pairs to research, experiment, and present on a genetic case study.”

Her pen tapped against the page. The thought of spending hours with him—at the library, in her house, maybe even his—was unbearable. She could practically hear his teasing voice already.

Princess. Spoilt rich girl. Predictable.

She groaned, burying her face in the pillow. Why did it have to be him? Why couldn’t it have been Sophie, or anyone else in the entire school?

For a long while, she lay there, staring at the ceiling, thoughts circling in endless loops of frustration.

But somewhere beneath the irritation, beneath the wounded pride of that long-ago debate, a quieter thought crept in. A thought she refused to acknowledge.

Maybe, just maybe…he really did deserve that win.

Cecilia shook the thought away, scowling. No. She wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. Not now. Not ever.

---

Downstairs, in his study, Jonathan Carter leaned back in his leather chair, swirling the last of his wine as he looked at a stack of contracts waiting for review. Eleanor entered quietly, folding her arms with a small smile.

“You were hard on her,” she said softly.

Jonathan shrugged. “She needs it. Cecilia’s smart, but she lives in a bubble. People like Hayes—boys who’ve had to fight for everything—remind her that the world isn’t built on silver platters. She’ll thank me for it someday.”

Eleanor tilted her head. “Or she’ll hate him even more.”

Jonathan smirked. “Either way, he’s not going anywhere from her life. I have a feeling about that boy.”

Eleanor’s eyes softened, her smile turning wistful. “A feeling?”

“Yes,” Jonathan said firmly. “Sometimes, the people you resist the most are the ones fate insists on keeping in your path.”

Neither of them knew just how true those words would become.