Surprise Me Maybe

07. The Knights

If Emily Knight is ridiculously gorgeous, Danielle Knight is inhumanly beautiful.

I met Emily on my first day working at Knight & Co. She was practically my savior because she threw the coffee at her brother's face at the perfect time —the coffee I spiced up with ghost chili sauce. Unlike Ashton, she shares the same hair color with Dickson which apparently they got from their mother. Emily is somehow friendlier this time compared to when she paid a visit to her little brother's office.

Danielle is another story. The intimidating vibe that wraps the air around us is unmistakably coming from her, forcing me to stay alert at all times. I would have steered clear of her if Chloe was not expected to come to this family lunch. In most cases, animals choose flight over fight, but when their babies are in danger, fight it is. I guess this is where humans and animals share the same trait.

Danielle sits on her throne, which is the red host chair at one end of the lunch table in her terrace garden, silently watching my daughter while Ashton is guiding Chloe to approach his mother. Judging from Ashton's age, she must be at least sixty years old now, however, gravity seems to deny her existence since she looks as if she is in her thirties. There is almost no trace of wrinkles or age spots on her face. Her skin is smooth and glowing, putting her broken-white satin blouse to shame.

"Mother," greets Ashton stiffly while resting both his hands on Chloe's shoulders. "This is Chloe, my" —he glances at me— "our daughter."

Danielle's lips stretch, forming a smile, but it doesn't reach her green eyes. "Hello, little girl."

I walk over briskly and offer my hand in a manner that I won't accept a refusal from her. "I'm Charlotte, Chloe's mother. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Knight." I don't even want to encourage her to call me Char or Charlie because clearly, this isn't a friendly visit.

If Danielle is surprised by my confidence, she doesn't show it. She looks up at me, eyeing me from head to toe before standing up, then her delicate fingers wrap around my palm. Once she shakes my hand, the delicacy goes down the drain because this freaking woman has iron hands! I have to grin widely to cover my wince. Luckily, Danielle's posture is small and slender, which makes me somehow glad that I was born tall and built because it helps me feel less intimidated in a situation like this. Hey, size does matter, right?

"Likewise. I'm Danielle, but let's cut off the formality. You may call me Dani. And please, take a seat and make yourself comfortable," she says, her smile growing more prominent but it's unsettling in a way.

I look down when a small hand searches for mine, and Chloe presses herself on my hips. I know she feels the tension and she needs her mama, but this is the reason why I'm here, to protect her from a potential holocaust. I secure my hand around my daughter's shoulders and squeeze her arm gently as I smile at her reassuringly. "Come, sit next to Mama."

I take the seat closer to Danielle so that Chloe can take the one farther away. I know I'm building a barrier between my daughter and her grandmother while I should do the opposite, but at the moment, I don't care. This is not the atmosphere I find ideal for my kid and I need to be a bit territorial. Surprisingly, Ashton doesn't seem to mind. He nods at me slightly as he takes the seat in front of me, next to his big sister. I wonder if they're still fighting now, but the awkward gesture between the two says enough.

One finger flick from Danielle sends her servant —who has been standing by the door— inside. In the next minutes, another servant emerges from the same door, which I assume is the kitchen door, pushing a golden serving trolley. Various kinds of bread, butter, hams, cheese, and jam are presented on expensive crystal plates, along with the shiny silver cutlery. The next batch is for salads, fruits, and drinks which are arranged across the table. My family is bigger than the number of people who are sitting at this table right now, and we eat more than average people do, but we've never had lunch like this. How much money do rich people waste on every lunch?