A Richer Shade of Gold
Chapter Three
Kendall let out a little grunt as she ripped her sky high heels off. She turned back and gently closed the front door to her house. She could hear laughter and chatter come through from the dining room. Great, her father had guests and she had no intentions of associating with them whatsoever.
She had even stopped at Xavier's house for a few hours before coming home and yet she still managed to arrive at the wrong time. She rolled her hazel eyes before advancing quickly towards the stairs, feeling extremely open to the idea of taking a warm bath.
She was making her way up the first couple of steps when the front door clicked open. Kendall paused and turned, frowning as the visitor did what Kendall had done not a moment before.
"You're kidding." Kendall said, catching the attention of the dark haired intruder who had just waltzed into her home like he owned it. His slightly startled gaze snapped up to her, causing his thick chocolate locks to sweep across his forehead and past his alert eyes. His facial features seemed to loosen up as he took in Kendall leaning against the gold railing of her stairs.
"And what would I be kidding about?" He replied, sporting some sort of unique accent, before raising a dark brow. Kendall sighed, she wasn't really expecting him to answer the way he did. She was more muttering to herself and didn't intend for her statement to be so loud. She was just wondering what the mysterious rich guy was doing in her house after being at her school.
"Nothing, I guess." Kendall murmured, "Well, you better hurry along, Mr Emeretta isn't a fan of tardiness."
"And who might you be?" He stepped closer to her and asked her with a hint of demand in his deep tone which Kendall did not react kindly to. Looking closer at his facial features now, Kendall noticed that he had a scar which scratched its faint imperfection into his upper lip, ruining her first impression of perfection for him.
"Excuse me, you walk into my home and demand who I am?" Kendall chuckled, resting her hand which had her fingers hooked around her shoes over her shoulder. "That's not how it works."
Kendall then turned to walk up the stairs but was, much to her disliking, interrupted by the voice that belonged to her father's. She gritted her teeth before turning back around.
"Wesley! Welcome! I see you've met Kendall," her father said, going to shake the hand of the moron who just entered her house.
"Ah, yes, Mr Emeretta, why I have," Wesley replied, his beautifully dark green eyes focused on Kendall's hazel ones. He stalked over to her and grabbed her free hand ever so gently. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Kendall." He said smoothly, bringing her hand up and brushing his lips against the back of her hand.
Kendall immediately pulled her hand away, her frown rapidly deepening. "I'd say the same, however, I favour the truth." She lifted her chin, but all her hostile reaction did was widen Wesley's grin. He knew he had gotten under her skin.
"Kendall, come join us for dinner." Her father said, disregarding her rude response as he started to head back into the dining room.
"I think I might just take a long bath." She, as much as it killed her, politely declined her father's request.
"Don't be ridiculous, I want you to meet the Archers and witness how business actually works." Her father said, causing Kendall to glare at her father. "Not to mention, Henry Archer attended Cambridge...not that it's any better than say, Yale or Columbia."
"Fine." She said, giving in to the idea of discussing her dream college and avoiding an argument with her father in front of a noisy stranger. "Let me get changed."
—
A mere fifteen minutes later, Kendall had joined her father and his guests at the dining table. She adjusted the waist of her fitted white jeans before sitting down, her father to her left at the end of the table, Clarissa to her right and Wesley and his parents across the table from her.
This was the ultimate recipe for disaster.
"So Kendall how was school?" Clarissa asked her as they were being served their dinner, but Kendall's mind was focused on the boy sitting at her table, clad with a strange accent. Newcomers were always interesting at Ridgeman Prep. It was amazing what first impressions could distinguish and determine about one's character—and in Wesley's regard, he was a dangerous one. Kendall just needed to figure out what his ambitions were when it came to social climbing.
"Kendall," her father called, "Clarissa just asked you a question."
"Swell." She answered abruptly, picking her glass of water up before sipping it.
"For God's sake, Kendall, can't you utter more than a word?"
"Fine," Kendall replied leaning back slightly into her chair, "it was brilliant, Clarissa." Her father gave her a disapproving look, but she continued, locking her gaze with Clarissa's, "A rank 3 girl tumbled down her very short social ladder, Max in physics choked on his strawberry gum, a girl tripped up the stairs and the only person who achieved full marks in the French pop quiz was me."
She rolled her eyes, tearing her gaze away from her father's unimpressed one. Directly opposite of her, Wesley was stifling a laugh as he shook his head and dished himself some mashed potatoes. His mother, however, noticed and slapped the back of his head lightly in an attempt to hush him. "Manners." She scolded quietly.
Wesley scoffed softly and turned his face away to face Kendall's. He threw her a smirk, receiving a scowl in return and a roll of her eyes. Wesley laughed, catching the attention of his father and Kendall's who were engaged in a conversation about the contract they were about to sign.
"Something the matter, son?" His father asked him.
Wesley chuckled, shrugging his broad shoulders before nodding towards Kendall, looking her directly in the eye, causing a feeling of uneasiness to develop in the pit of her stomach. "You're eyes are about to roll out of their sockets."
She glared at him, wondering what the hell his problem was.
"Wesley!" His mother gasped disapprovingly.
Yes, Kendall thought, if that was my son I'd be appalled too.
"I don't see the problem, I wouldn't have to look at you for any longer." She hissed back.
Wesley let out another deep chuckle, causing the hairs on Kendall's arms to stand on end, "I suppose I'll have to go compose myself in the loo now, I think I might cry."
Kendall clenched her jaw and her fists, feeling the urge to break something. Preferably Wesley's nose. She'd never gotten this worked up over someone she hardly even knew before but whenever Wesley opened his damn mouth, Kendall had the urge to clamp it shut and throw him off a steep cliff into a pool full of ravenous, bloodthirsty sharks.
She'd never come across anyone to make her blood boil so much. And hopefully, she wouldn't have to come across him too many more times. Business was business, which meant as soon as the deal was closed, face-to-face contact would be brought down to a minimum.
Wesley's gaze never left hers, so the pair were left staring at each other from across the table. The room fell silent as Wesley waited, with a stupid smirk on his face, for Kendall to shoot something back at him. The only sound that was heard as Kendall sifted through her brain for a retort was the sound of cutlery clinking and doors opening and closing as the housekeepers and butlers buzzed through the room like bees.
At this point, Wesley's smirk had only widened at her delayed response. He knew he had her stumped at this point. His habit of always twisting his full lips into a smirk or grin was a trait of his that Kendall found herself despising more and more as the time she was forced to spend with him passed by.
"It would seem," Wesley started, his voice echoing loudly through the noiseless room as he comfortably backed into his chair, "that you are lost for words."
Kendall softly let go of a breath she didn't realise she was holding, "Yes, so it would seem." She replied nonchalantly, looking at him with bored eyes. If anything, being so popular taught her how to control her emotions. Being 'queen' also taught her that she didn't need to win every little mindless battle, but the one to win was the war. So she knew what fights she had to win and which she could let slide. Although she was extremely reluctant to let this one slide so easily, she knew she would have more opportunities.
"Anyways," William Emeretta coughed, "let's discuss the contract."
"What contract?" Kendall asked her father, her eyebrows knotting together. She found herself curious with the details of the deal about to be negotiated.
"The Archer's own a luxury catering business that will work in conjunction with our hotels."
"What about the Bry—"
"They've been taken care of. All you're here to do is listen." William cut her off and turned to Wesley's parents, continuing on with their conversation.
The next painstakingly slow twenty minutes consisted of Wesley's parents and Kendall's father quietly discussing how they would be designing the hotels that they would be building. Kendall had learned that the Archers owned a chain of high-class restaurants in which her father wanted in his high-class hotels. The Emerettas owned a global chain of five-star hotels. Celebrities and royalty alike across the globe visited these hotels. After all, a stay at any House of Emeretta hotel was considered a lavish luxury in the world of hotels and travelling. Every hotel the Emerettas owned had the very top floor reserved for them should they ever be in town.
William Emeretta was planning on expanding his already large chain of hotels and to make the stay for his guests even more enjoyable, he was going to partner with Eliza Archer and Henry Archer to incorporate an element of fine dining. The last couple of times he had been to a House of Emeretta hotel, the food had tasted questionable, especially in New Delhi. But that could be due to his strong dislike of spices and curry. He had to fire his last catering company but he knew that it wouldn't be too much of a loss. Besides, they started to charge ridiculous amounts of money for below average food. And William Emeretta could not have anything below par for his hotels.
Every so often, Kendall would pipe in and offer her opinion on what the interior of the restaurants should look like. Her father knew she was particularly gifted when it came to aesthetics, but when Kendall found herself on the verge of yawning, she knew that she was done for the night.
"It has been a pleasure, however," she started, standing up. She paid no mind to Wesley as his emerald eyes snapped up to look at her. "I'll have to excuse myself. Mr and Mrs Archer, it was a pleasure meeting you." She smiled at Eliza and Henry Archer and as her gaze travelled across the room towards her father, it ceased at Satan himself. She pursed her lips before tearing her gaze away. Her father nodded and Clarissa threw a tiny smile her way, uttering a soft goodnight. Kendall pushed her chair in and turned, finally heading towards her escape.
"You failed to mention me, Kendall sweetheart." She heard an obnoxious voice call out from behind her.
Oh, for the love of God.
For what seemed like the hundredth time that night, Kendall gritted her teeth and turned on her heel. "While this dinner has been rather grand, I'd rather not do it again with you." She spoke calmly and before the jerk could get another word out, she continued, "Now, I have school in the morning and would really appreciate it if you'd allow me to go upstairs, take a shower and sleep like I'd been planning to do four hours ago."
"Oh, you go to Ridgeman Prep, don't you dear?" Eliza asked Kendall, breaking the little glaring contest that was going on between her and her son.
"Yes," Kendall answered her, "why do you ask?"
"Because," Wesley interjected, his lips curling into another goddamn smirk, "I start there tomorrow and I'll need someone to hold my hand, don't you think?"
You've got to be freaking kidding me. Kendall thought to herself.
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