CHAPTER TEN
1191 Words
KIERAN
I pulled up at the De La Vega private harbour.
Expensive cars lined up, valet drivers rushing to park them. I spotted some familiar faces.
“Listen, my family’s big. There’s the understanding half... and the rude, prideful half. Unfortunately, my father is in the latter category.”
I glanced at Rochelle. Her strong jawline made her cheekbones stand out—a perfect sculpture accented by freckles aligned like art.
A perfect creation, if you ask me.
She nodded, her face cold and expressionless. I groaned inwardly, knowing I caused this. I hadn’t meant to snap; anxiety got the better of me.
She slammed the car door, stepping out with angry stomps.
Brushing past me, she went straight to Ethan, who had arrived.
I hated this unusual friendship between them.
I said nothing, not wanting to cause a scene. I walked quietly behind them, staying close but out of their conversation.
“Any advice? Kieran’s being annoying,” Rochelle huffed, intertwining her right hand with Ethan’s left.
“He’s just nervous...” Ethan whispered in her ear.
“Trust me, he’s determined to please.”
Rochelle giggled.
*Back off, Kauffman!*
I clenched my fists, suppressing the urge to punch him and remind Rochelle, who she belonged to.
“You know De La Vega Airlines?” Ethan asked as we approached the harbour.
“Yeah...” Rochelle answered cautiously.
Ethan wiggled his brows and nodded stupidly.
“Oh my days!” She exclaimed, hands flying to her mouth.
“He’s... *this*... they’re *that* De La Vega?!” She shrieked, drawing some stares.
“Yup,” Ethan said with a pop.
“No wonder he’s nervous. They’re an entire enterprise, aren’t they?” she asked, lacing hands with Ethan as they climbed the ship’s steps. I followed closely behind.
Ethan finally turned to face me.
*About time, asshole!*
“The tour ends here, milady,” he smirked, bowing mockingly. Rochelle giggled; I rolled my eyes.
*Oh please.*
Ethan patted my shoulder and went to mingle.
“Enjoy your little rendezvous?” I scoffed, taking Rochelle’s hand.
She rolled her eyes, looking away.
“I’m sorry for snapping, Ginger,” I cooed softly.
She looked back, softening.
“Forgive me?” I smiled sadly.
She smiled back, gripping my hand tighter.
“Set to sail!” the sailors yelled as we prepared to leave harbour.
“Ready?” I whispered, staring into her determined blue eyes.
She sighed, smiling faintly.
“I’m ready.”
ROCHELLE
O... okay. Let’s do this.
Kieran held me firmly by the waist, guiding me toward an elegantly adorned table—flowers scattered across the polished surface, delicate plates of fancy snacks laid out.
Six people sat around it. One I guessed was Kieran’s father: an older version of Kieran himself—same sharp green eyes, stiff jaw, and broad shoulders. The resemblance was uncanny.
Two older women sat nearby—one with her red hair pulled tight in a bun, the other sporting short blonde curls. They were dressed to the nines, their jewellery worth far more than everything I owned combined.
Two younger women were also seated, deep in conversation with Ethan—the only person here I truly recognized.
“Father... Family...” Kieran started, offering a curt nod toward the table.
The room fell completely silent. Heads snapped to him, eyes sharp and expectant.
His hand went limp at my waist. I watched his face closely.
He took two deep breaths, gulping nervously—the bob of his Adam’s apple betraying his calm façade.
He closed his eyes tightly, then reopened them in one swift motion, his hand returning to my waist and gripping it firmly for comfort.
“Rochelle, meet my family...” he continued, pulling me a little closer.
Their eyes shifted from him to me, cold, calculating, dissecting.
My cheeks flamed. Whether it was Kieran’s heat or the family’s judging stares, I wasn’t sure. All I knew was I was probably in deeper s**t than I’d ever been—even back when I was homeless.
“...Family,” he paused again, forcing his most confident smile.
“...Rochelle. My fiancée.”
The older women’s eyes widened at the announcement, taking a second, lingering look. The blonde woman smiled faintly, nodding in approval as she whispered to the redhead. The latter’s icy gaze reluctantly softened to one of acceptance.
His father remained cold and eerily still—so still, it was frightening.
He said nothing as he took a slow, deliberate bite of a cookie. Each crunch was agonizingly measured.
He didn’t look at me or his son, only stared down at the food in front of him, sipping his tea gently—never uttering a word.
His green, calculating eyes never wandered.
Ethan leaned back in his chair, smirking at the unfolding drama.
The older women, the younger women, Ethan, Kieran, and I all stared at him, waiting for some reaction.
God, how can one man be so powerful—commanding the entire room with just a look?
When it became clear he wasn’t going to respond, I took matters into my own hands.
This would probably cost me my head... but the tension was killing me.
“Mr. De La Vega... it is an honour to—” I extended my hand, forcing a polite smile.
“Who said you could speak?” His voice sliced through the room like a knife, cutting my resolve.
He set down his teacup slowly and turned toward me.
My hazel-blue eyes locked onto his cold, calculating hazel-green ones—belonging to none other than Mr. De La Vega himself, Kieran’s father.
You are dead, Rochelle.
I clamped my hand over my mouth, mentally swearing I’d heard a whimper escape.
I caught snickers from the two younger women, whispering and laughing among themselves.
“Where are you from?” he asked, turning back to his snacks.
“Here in New York, Father,” Kieran replied quickly, earning a hard glare.
How Kieran didn’t instantly turn to stone was beyond me. This man’s glare could melt concrete.
“I was speaking to your fiancée,” he snapped, eyes piercing into Kieran.
“And your education?” he asked me, turning to face the table again.
You know what? This is going to end very, very badly. I might as well go out with a bang.
Everyone stared at me expectantly. Ethan’s amused face was now edged with panic.
“If you’re going to interrogate me, Mr. De La Vega...” I sighed mockingly, searching for a chair—which was promptly pulled out by a servant.
Ooh, classy! I like this... impressive.
“I might as well get perfectly comfortable.”
I picked a cookie from his plate and mimicked his slow, intimidating chew.
The entire table was stunned. Ethan’s mouth hung open; his jaw nearly hit the floor.
Kieran went stiff behind me, eyes wide, like his eyeballs might pop out.
Mr. De La Vega was silent. Dangerously silent.
He stared at me intently, his gaze threatening to crack my newfound resolve.
But I wasn’t about to cower.
This will be very, very interesting... catastrophic.
- Writer
