Heiress in Distress

•Chapter 9: Part 2•

I hesitate to answer, wondering if I'm REALLY up for this.

"Deal" I find myself saying, eliciting a slowly forming grin on his face.

"After you" He urges with his hand, taking a sip from his coffee. I don't want to guide his attention towards my exact wonders, so I start by sporting an expressionless look.

"Your full name?" I ask, completely steering clear of my actual questions.

"Elias Heinrich. Yours?" There! A definitely German surname.

"Mira Wagner. What's your job's nature?" I notice how the weather seems to be getting warmer.

"I'm a businessman; however, what exact business I conduct depends on the degree of truth in your answer to my next question" Immediately, my heart begins to pound furiously in my chest and a few droplets of sweat roll down my spine.

"Are you a native French ?" The question seems to be easy to ask, nothing of trouble, yet I know where it would take me and I do not like where it's going.
But I need answers from him! That's the only reason that keeps me going.

"No, I'm not. You're not French either, where are you originally from ?"

"Germany" He says proudly, placing his mug after a long sip. Involuntarily, I let out an audible gasp.
I already knew he was German, I just didn't expect him to admit it; why, I'm not sure.

I'm beginning to hate the fact that he's more relaxed than I am, as I look at my not nearly half empty mug, my ability to stomach anything passing me by.

"If you're not French, then what are you doing here ?" There it goes, the question I have been dreading. Some of my hair has stuck to the back of my neck, sweat acting better than cold-welding.

"My parents own a single-story house here" I do my best to give him truths, elusively avoiding details, because according to him, I won't be able to get enough from him if I don't offer.

"If you're German, then what are YOU doing here ?" I throw the same question back at him.
The only difference here; where I'm soaked in shades of nervousness, he's floating in his level-headedness.

"As I said before, I'm a businessman, and my job's nature requires numerous business trips, both domestic and abroad. This is one of them" He doesn't seem disturbed by this as much as I am. He's too smug with himself, hiding his smile into his mug when taking another sip.

Realisation hits me in the face that it's his turn now to ask. I wish to withdraw, but I can't allow him to win. He got enough answers, while I got none of importance.

"Before you ask, you said you'd elaborate about your business according to my answer. I answered truthfully." I hate how whiny I sound when I say this.
He sets his empty mug down, calmly leaning in and placing both his hands in front of him.

"Fine. You get to ask two questions next round" He says smilingly.
But instead of finding relief in that, I can't help the wariness at his relaxed smile.

"Where are your parents, Mira ?" He asks, making my heart sink and the bile to rise up to my throat.

The back of my eyes sting. I'm not sure whether it's the mention of my parents, or the definite lie I know I should devise to keep from telling the truth, that leaves me with a defeated feeling.
With attentiveness like that, he'll see right through my lie, and won't give me the answers I want.

"Excuse me" I push my chair back, a scraping noise accompanies the move, standing up and leaving for the restrooms.
I only catch a brief glimpse of the frown he's now sporting.

Once inside the restroom, I rinse my tear-stained face and sweat-stained neck.
I stand there, staring at my reflection in the mirror; I thought I schooled myself well in suppressing my emotions at the mention of my parents. Clearly I haven't

In response to the time display on my phone, I take another deep breath and exit the restroom, making it back to the table.
This time however, Élise is wide awake and cradled tenderly between Elias's arms as he places a soft kiss to her head.

"Sorry" I say smiling, expelling every trace of dejection I felt, and taking my seat back on the table. He dismisses my apology with a shake of his head, still looking at the table.
When my eyes follow his gaze, I notice he's studying the papers.

"Have you tried combining them ?" He asks once he raises his head, his gaze a scrutinising spell. He's aware of my brief breakdown.
I only frown, cocking my head to the side, indicating I don't know what he's talking about.

"The compounds in each box. I see you did a great job in calculating the atomic number of each compound, but you don't seem to have considered combining the compounds within the same box" He explains. I don't quite understand what he's suggesting, so I decide not to answer, figuring that if someone cracks the code, it should be me.

"What about this ?" He asks when he notices my disinterest in acknowledging his previous words. I lean over to see where he's pointing, almost laughing out loud at what's written at the bottom of my father's paper.

The first time I read the words, I actually felt the humour, knowing well how impossible his 'project' is and how irrational of someone to even attempt such a thing.

"I've spent the whole afternoon in my lab, attempting to produce a new spice  -something to add to my newest pasta recipe.
I started by the lowest ranking to the highest, combining thorium and erbium with oxygen and nitrogen, in that same order, but it turned out too ammoniacal.
So I went for the unconventional options; moscovium, cobalt and yttrium, again in the same order, but was forced to dump the product due to its high radioactivity.
Next, I tried my luck once again with rare elements, europium, germanium, and neon.
As expected, the result was fascinating but not the desired product.
Finally, I decided to use something more recognised, combining iron and nickel with potassium and sulfur. The result was bolting!
But I decided I like my pasta just the way it is, so I give up the whole project."

Knowing full well that the paragraph is just an incomprehensible scribble from my father, I smile at him.

"That is just my father cracking some jokes. It means absolutely nothing" I say.

"Are you sure about that ?" He asks, brows deeply furrowed. I nod, convinced that it's just my good humoured father messing around.

••••

There you go, two chapters in two days (=
Hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it ♥️

-Asia