High Life | ✔️

19

THE DUPONTS HAD two dining rooms. The smaller one had a six-seater, and was reserved for daily meals. The other one was overdone with floor length mirrors, Swarovski chandeliers and a twenty-seater. We were having dinner in the grander room today.

"My parents are really excited to meet you," Elias told me.

We were standing outside the dining hall. I was oddly at ease, something Elias found a bit strange but didn't deign to comment upon. We were late by ten minutes (not on purpose), I really couldn't decide on what to wear. Before we entered the dining hall, Elias's hands snaked around my waist, pulling me against him and squashing my boobs against his side.

Then we burst into the dining hall.

"OH MY GOD," I brought two hands to my mouth. "You're so rich, oh my God..."

I jumped apart from Elias, taking in the room. I didn't need much acting on my part - it really was a splendid room. Glistening white marble was flanked by Grecian-style columns, the ceiling was hung with dangling crystal chandeliers; light and color glowed throughout the dining hall, reflecting in mirrors, dancing on the Persian and Turkish carpets that lined the floor. There was a vase at the centre of the dining table, festooned with fresh flowers. Then my eyes landed on Mr. and Mrs. DuPont.

"Hey," I greeted his parents excitedly. My eyes roamed the room for a final time, eventually landing back on my fake fiancé. I grabbed onto his arms, chewing on my bottom lip, as though to contain excitement.

He visibly flinched. He was the image of discomfiture.

I then bounded over to the dining table. Someone pulled a chair out for me, I gladly took the seat beside Elias, across his parents. I made sure to drag the chair noisily for five minutes against the marble floor, making everyone in the room squirm.

When I was done, I took in the range of cutleries before me. My mother was always a stickler for being prim and proper. If there was one thing I knew like the back of my hand, it was dining table etiquette. But I wasn't here to be myself. Today, I was here to get Elias disowned.

I dressed to kill... the expectations of two adults. I was in an explicitly low-cut top which had the words 'STOP STARING AT MY TITS' inscribed at the front. I paired the amazing shirt (chosen by Elias) with a leather skirt that was so short it barely covered my ass. I wore fishnet too, with flats because neither of us had the foresight to buy prostitute heels back at the mall. But it didn't matter because the amount of cleavage I had on display was enough to make both Mr. and Mrs. DuPont want to call a pastor.

And I hadn't even started talking.

I took out my phone and started taking pictures of everything, with flash.

"Oh my God, um... can I get a picture with you? Apparently you own some really big company or something," I smiled widely at Mr. DuPont.

He smiled a strained smile, gesturing for one of the servants to fill his wine glass.

"After dinner, perhaps," he replied finally.

After taking pictures of the range of cutleries and pretending to film a vlog for my fake YouTube channel, I finally put my phone away. Both his parents, they were staring at me with strained facial expressions. Every so often, they would turn to Elias with silent expressions that conveyed 'why the fuck did you bring this barbarian home?' And I hadn't even... began talking.