The Arrangement: It Led Me To Love

Chapter 3 - Laurene's POV

I have the feeling that the employee (I learned her name is Sophie) knows who I am, so she takes me past the busy restaurant and into a private room where my dad, Ellison and Mr Kefalas are waiting. The dining room is exquisite. The walls are covered with a shimmering gold paper and in the middle of the ceiling above the carved oak table is a candelabrum. Down the centre of the table is a runner with an abstract Celtic design woven in gold and green into the fabric itself. At the end of the table are floor to ceiling French doors, left slightly ajar to let the scented summer air breeze into the room. The polished silver cutlery looks heavy to the hand and shines brightly in the early afternoon light. At each place stands a tall empty wine glass, and there are beautifully folded napkins to match the runner. All that is missing is the food and me.

Seeing them waiting patiently through the doors make another tidal wave of fear crash over me, leaving me with sweaty, shaking palms and feeling weak in the knees. To stop my hands from so visibly juddering, I clutch my iPad into my chest, and seize my hands under my armpits. I can just tell that it is going to be a long afternoon. Taking a deep, calming breath I strut into the room, with a smile plastered onto my face and my head held high.

I am immediately greeted by my father's fake smile, pretending to care about my feelings and what I actually want. He has actually dressed up for the occasion. He is probably just trying to impress Mr Kefalas, who is also dressed up to the nines. Maybe I should have chosen a classier outfit. I was not told what the dress code was! This will just be another excuse for my father to yell at me, and tell me that I am not good enough.

My father is a proud man. He is strict, disciplined and of high principal. He is short tempered and did some wrong in his life but he is not a bad man. He has just been washed with bad experience and born more short-tempered than most. He wears his pride like a parapet; I do not know whether it is to shield him or not let anyone in. His judicious intellect, precise eye and impetuous anger led to a profoundly tarnished reputation amongst our distant relatives. From my memories of him, I can recollect what he was like before mother's death. His eyes used to dance with the warming glow of a thousand candle light fires, and the naturistic green of his eyes swallowed his other features, crinkling at the edges when he smiled. His lips beamed from his cheeks, defining his leathery skin. He still has his dusky brown hair that rests atop his herculean sallow figure, and an orderly mess of hair and wrinkles sit on his brow bone, forehead, and under the jade eyes that now never smile. His hands are withered and his fingers are like an insects antenna. He has the resounding presence of a fiery phoenix but the quiet yet strong aura of a Boilam Brikkho; he does not have to talk to be the loudest person in a room. Now he slumps in a shadow of his former self, becoming angry easily and making sure that he is alone as often as possible.

The soothing sound of soft piano music hums in the background, making a duet with the clicking of my high heels. My father stares at my choice in dress and something flashes in his eyes – probably anger, disappointment and disbelief. I guess my dress is somewhat short, but I am twenty-two now, so I can dress however I want. I have that familiar uneasy feeling washing through my blood - I get it whenever my father has that glint in his eyes, telling me that we shall speak later. I only let my smile falter for a couple of seconds, before I regain my composure and poker face.

Mr Kefalas gives me one of his dazzling smiles before I sit down on the seat that Sophie pulled out for me. I thank her, which earns an eyebrow raise from Mr Kefalas. I guess he uses his wealth and high status as a sign for others to bow down to him, and worship him as the god he looks and acts like. I am not like that though. My mother always used to be looked down upon in the elite circles because she treated everyone as her equal, and was kind and caring. She was never snobby or impolite. To her everyone was worthy, and she did not judge people depending on their wealth or looks. In order to cherish her memory, I try to be like that, and honestly I feel so much happier then others who materialise and worship their wealth too much.

"Laurene my dear! It is so lovely to see you again. I trust that you are doing well?" The fake sincerity in his voice makes me want to roll my eyes, but I have to remember why I am doing this.

"Thank you Mr Kefalas! It is nice to see you again to. And yes I am fine thank you, how have you been?" I respond graciously.

"Wonderful my dear! I can not wait to close this business deal with your father!" Think of the extra money that will benefit us all!" He exclaims, joy accenting his eyes.

Ugh. What is wrong with this person? Is money all he thinks about? His precious little company is already worth hundreds of billions of dollars!

"Yes it is great. Although I already have enough money to last me a life time." I try to keep the disdain and sarcastic tone out of my voice, but the way that my dad focuses his sharp death glare at me, I have a feeling that I did not hide my contempt for this situation as well as I hoped.

"You do not want to expand your wealth? Why not child?"

I flinch when he calls me child. I am not a child, I am a woman and I make my own decisions thank you very much!

"Well I already have millions of dollars, so I do not see why I would need more. There are people starving in the world, so I do not comprehend why I should be greedy and take more for myself, simply storing it up, when I can give to others and help those out who are in need."

"Well, I do not agree with you child, but I have to say – you are as beautiful as your mother, and have inherited her giving and generous personality."

My dad winces at his words, and a wall of awkwardness builds up around us. My dad does not like mentioning mum. Ever since her death, he refuses to talk about her. I believe that he should – he still does not have any closure from it. I knew from then that this dinner was going to be a complete disaster. My dad is going to be in an even sourer mood, Mr Kefalas is going to talk non-stop about this arrangement, annoying us all, and well - Ellison has not said a word. He is literally ignoring us all, slumped in his chair glaring at the floor. I have not even had a good look at him yet. Yes, I have seen pictures, but you can never tell if they are edited to add perfection to his gorgeous looks. He has not bothered to look at me either, so I just sit there looking at the wallpaper, wondering what I am doing here.

Luckily, Sophie comes back in and starts taking the drink orders. My dad orders water, Mr Kefalas orders a Prosecco, and I order some Norwegian champagne. This stuff is literal heaven. When Sophie asks Ellison what he wants, he literally just sits there and does not say anything! Disappointment and sorrow drags like lead through my veins. I have to marry this guy, and he will not talk or look at me. Was this what I am destined for? A loveless marriage full of hate and sorrow? It will drive me crazy. I have realized that I cannot live my life like this. I want a marriage like my parents. One full of laughter, tears, fights, unity, and most importantly love. If this is how Ellison is going to act towards me, then I won't marry him – I cannot do this. I will have to build my own company and find a way to support myself. My chest tightens and hurts at the thought of all of these possibilities. However, I know I have to give Ellison and me a chance at happiness; I am not silly enough to think that we could actually love each other before we get married.

Relaxing myself, I decide to turn to look at Ellison and try to strike up a conversation. As I look at him, my breath hitches in my throat. He is single handily the most strikingly handsome man I have seen in all my life. His pictures do not do him justice. However good looking his father is, he has ten times the amount of godliness about him. His soft black hair leaves me wanting to run my hands through it, as it sweeps sophisticatedly across his forehead, as he is leaning over. The sun has hit his perfectly tanned skin just right, making it glow in the sunlight – he truly looks like a bronze statue, carved to perfection. I can only just make out his eyes, which are in an obstinate, cold stare. Their colour is a pale green – almost grey - with a darker green rim haloing around them. His cheekbones look as though they were carved to perfection, as well as his jawline, which... wow! There are no words. He is completely clean-shaven, and would have had an angelic look if it were not for the permanent scowl glued to his face. He truly is the most dazzling man I have seen in my life.

I hope you are enjoying this story! Let me know what you think :)

Edited