BLEACHED

36: You can leave.

"That said-," his father walks to the couch and leans down to it, dusting his hand over the couch as though there is anything on it before taking a seat. "-If I'm staying longer than a minute here it'd be best hospitality to bring me some tea. It's cold."

"Fine." Domen says through gritted teeth before turning. "What would you like?"

"Send the lady." Desmond says as he points towards Lavender who raises her brows. "I have business to discuss with you and while she's here she might as well make herself useful."

Domen glances down at Lavender who shrugs at him.

"Since you were at her place for four hours, I take it she's been here for more." He says as he shifts his gaze to the fireplace, getting Lavender to widen her eyes in shock.

"Could you cut that out?" Domen rolls his eyes and tugs Lavender to leave the room and head to the kitchen, which she doesn't protest to. "Anyway, what is it then?"

"How is your intimate relationship with Evette?" Desmond asks as Domen's mother is now in her purse retouching her makeup. "As much as pregnancy before marriage is a shame, you are marrying in a few months, would be preferable if you both had children early in the marriage."

"She's busy." Domen simply points out, getting Desmond to glance at him with a deep frown and furrowing brows.

Unsatisfied with the response.

"Too busy for each other yet not busy when it comes to a woman who looks like she could fight a bear and win?" Desmond asks and Domen knows exactly who he is referring to.

"For the last time, she's not intimate with me. We're just acquainted." He sighs in frustration as he brings his hand to his forehead, pinching his the bridge of his nose. "Or would you love for me to be romantically involved with her?"

"I'd never dream of it." Desmond rolls his eyes and leans back into the seat. "A woman of such low class isn't in the slightest eligible to even speak to us. Not to forget she doesn't look like she gives a care in the world about her appearance. She's not worthy to be romantically involved with a Southren."

Domen clenches his jaw as he stares at his father, the only reason Evette is the only woman worthy and perfect for Domen since he was young.

Desmond has always controlled Domen like a puppet down to his toes. Unable to break free from his own father's will to control him.

Though as much as he wishes to escape his father's grasp, Domen can't stand against his father. Even if he insisted Domen shuts his company down, Domen would.

"Hm." Is all Domen says as he drops his gaze to the ground.

"I really hope it's just a doubt of mine. Do not go beyond simply being acquainted with that woman. Being Evette's friend I will allow it for you two to interact otherwise I'm against it." Desmond points out as he spots Lavender waddling back into the room and towards Domen.

She stands beside him and tries to get on her toes to whisper something in his ear but can't reach it. She then tugs on his shirt, getting him to lean down slightly so she could say what she wants to.

After whispering for a few seconds, Domen stands straight and glances at her before glancing to the kitchen.

"I'll be back." Domen says before leaving the room with Lavender who casts Desmond an apologetic glance before as she trails behind Domen.

In the kitchen, Domen is visibly tense as he walks to the cupboard just close to the fridge and reaches into it, grabbing the tea set and placing it to the cupboard for Lavender to get.

"It's too high, don't put the tea up there." Lavender sighs as she runs a hand through her hair, getting Domen to glance down at her. "It's embarrassing for me to call you."

"You did great, I was about to die from the conversation with my father." He groans as he leans back to the cupboard and pinches the skin between his eyes. "He's draining me inside out."

"He seems like he's just being a dad." Lavender shrugs her shoulders as she places the items on a tray. "That's nice."

He was insulting you, Lavender. He sighs to himself as he shifts his gaze to the arch leading to the livingroom.

"He controls everything." Domen points out as he crosses his arms to his chest. "Even if I would love someone else, I'd still be forced to marry Evette. That's how much control he has over me."

Are you admitting to not liking me at all? Lavender furrows her brows as she glances at him for a moment before lifting the tray.

"We should head back before they start to wonder." She says as she leads the way into the livingroom, getting Domen to furrow his brows and follow anyway.

Desmond notices them coming in and doesn't really say anything as his eyes scan Lavender once more, just like before.

Though no matter how many times he looks at her, he can't stomach the fact his son could like her.

It's not proven with evidence yet, but Desmond knows for a fact Domen isn't one to simple socialize with anyone.

Evette was his only social partner and no one else.

So who's this woman? How has she even managed to get Domen to speak with her?

For four hours?

Desmond watches as Lavender pulls a stool with her foot, directing it towards the couple before stopping it in front of the two and she places the tray on the stool before stepping back.

"That's it." She says in a low tone, getting Desmond to stare at her, still trying to figure out what is so interesting about this woman.

Maybe it's her intelligence. But she can't even run her own company. She's just like everyone else.

"Much appreciated. You may also leave, since there's no business for you here." He says as he drops his gaze to the tray of tea ingredients, getting Lavender to raise her brows, taken aback at how he's chanced her out in the most professional way.

She nods her head and glances towards Domen who isn't looking at her but at something on the far corner of the room.

She walks by him and disappears through into the corridor and walks to the front door, feeling relieved that she doesn't have to be in the same room as them.

The air was intimidating like acid oxygen burning her lungs and bringing her mind to spin.

His voice doesn't give room for negotiation and even though she's barely talked to him to know that, she can feel he doesn't like repeating his words.

His eyes are judgemental, treating her like a specimen under examination.

It gives her goosebumps just remembering his piercing cold eyes.

She makes it to her front door and sighs as she gets into her house, only then does she remember her front door doesn't have the handle.

Walter was going to replace it and yet he didn't.

He simply opened the door.

She reaches into the house and grabs her keys along with the credit card she thankfully left behind before heading to the car.

Might as well go buy one and fix it myself.