Oooo I've been excited for this one
Hope you guys are as excited as I am
(Also this one is gonna be long)
Now, while I fully believe that going to school with information-hungry teenaged girls was quite daunting, accompanying Brendon Urie to dinner may have been one of the most anxiety-inducing events in my life.
I recalled him taking me to my room last night, long after Lily left, and he stayed with me for a while.
"Would you like to go to dinner with me tomorrow night?" I remember him asking, clear as day.
I feigned being flattered. "Well, well, if I wasn't aware that you're an arrogant ass, I may have thought you were asking me on a date."
He gracefully sat on my bed and snickered. "Smart girl." Brendon reached out a hand to me, and I rolled my eyes and took it. As soon as he had a grip on me, he pulled me to sit next to him. "Sometimes I need to go out to maintain a. . . reputation."
I scoffed and mumbled an "Of course."
"And," he continued, "it always seems like you'd rather be anywhere but in this house. So I figured I might as well ask you to come along."
I was not quite sure his three-story mansion with a million—or what seemed like it, anyway—rooms could qualify as just a "house", but I very much would rather be doing anything than staring at the same intricately carved vase or getting lost in the corridors. "Will anyone else be there?"
"I'm meeting a few people. I have some field partners, a few shares of some businesses that a man wants to talk to me about, and a whole shit ton of media reporters who are dying for me to go out in public so they can make up some story about it." He patted my thigh loudly. "So, what do you say?"
I let out an anxious sigh. "You're willingly exposing me to the media so they can make up rumors and ultimately end up following me to school to ask if I'm banging you on the weekends? I'll pass."
"Hmm, but Lu comes every time and there's never been anything like that about her and me."
"That's because they probably know that she raised you-"
But he butted in yet again. "Wear something nice and look important and nothing will happen. Trust me."
He had seemed oddly determined to take me out with him, so much so that it seemed I hadn't had a choice.
Yet, as we walked inside the low-lit, fancy restaurant, I was glad he dragged me out.
The place offered a thrilling, yet sophisticated vibe, and entranced me, begging me to stay. The white table clothes had patterns of flowers etched into the fabric, the waiters and waitresses wore black silk, and every object seemed to be worth more than anything I've ever owned.
Brendon confirmed his reservation, a few people staring at him, and held his arm out for me to hold as the hostess led him to our table. He pulled out the chair for me and made his way to sit right next to me.
A male waiter, who introduced himself as Jim, quickly asked us what we'd like to drink, and strode away as quickly as he came.
Brendon leaned in to my ear and whispered. "Now, babe, we're a little early, but they'll be here soon. Be a good girl for me, huh?" I could feel his tempting words on my neck, the heat of his lips near my skin, but he pulled away more quickly than I would have liked.
"I'm not being good for anyone." Jim came back with our drinks and I took a swig of my water, harshly setting it back down. "I can make my own decisions, thank you very much."
A voice I had never heard struck my ears. "Oooo, feisty. Just how I like 'em." I turned to eye up the new arrival, a man who appeared to be in his late 50's, and he took the seat in front of me.
"Mr. Myler," Brendon extended a hand, his body language becoming more refined, "it's good to see you. This is [y/n]. She'll be joining us tonight."
The older man looked me up and down, and I suddenly felt very exposed. It would look odd to hide myself, so all I could do was sit there, my hands tensely gripping the fabric of the dress I had been forced into wearing.
"It was what Mr. Brendon wanted you to wear." I remembered Lu's voice in my head when she brought me the formal, frame-fitting dress. It hugged my body tightly, but it was perfect for a business woman, I supposed.
"You've picked yourself out a nice gal, Mr. Urie."
Brendon smiled. "You are very kind, sir, but I am afraid she's not my girlfriend."
"Is that so? Well, then maybe I'll give her a shot," he howled and let out a series of cackles.
While I seemed quite offended, Brendon had to sit and smile politely at him, not saying a word.
"All due respect, Mr. Miley Cyrus, or whatever your name was, but I'm not really looking for a sugar daddy."
He looked taken aback, like he hadn't expected me to shut down his advances. Mr. Myler seemed to be the type of man who aimed for young girls with no self-respect and took advantage of them. It was almost self-explanatory by the many rings he wore on his fingers, his grimy teeth, and multiple handkerchiefs he stored in both his pant pockets and jacket pockets. Who even needed to wipe their hands that often?
"Sir, if you wish for any business deals to be made between us," I saw Brendon pick up his whisky glass and swirl it around, his eyes watching the liquid spin in the cup, "I'm going to have to ask any advances you make on Miss [L/n] to cease."
Mr. Myler grumbled under his breath, but silently complied.
Not much later, two more men and a woman showed up, each greeting the other members of the table.
The one that caught my eye the most was a tall, attractive man not much older than Brendon. Brown hair, yet light eyes, adorned his features, his dark suit causing his blue eye color to pop out. Mr. Weekes.
Now, from what I had gathered, it seemed that Mr. Myler was there to swindle the members of the table into investing in his stock. However, Mr. Weekes, Mr. Huson, and Mrs. Gillan were government employees in the same department as Brendon.
Huson and Gillan were familiar last names. I hadn't quite recalled where I heard them. I brushed it off to avoid working my brain too hard.
"So, Mr. Huson, Mrs. Gillan, I assume you're here on behalf of both yourselves and your spouses." Mr. Weekes spoke, his voice smooth and soft.
Mrs. Gillan snorted. "Yes, someone has to work tonight in my household. I can't risk my job."
"Although," Mr. Huson added, "Neither you nor Mr. Urie would have that issue."
I raised a brow. Sure, Brendon's father had invented whatever they were working on, but had he been that important to the government? With so many people working on it, surely there were better assets: the only real advantage he had was his father, and he didn't even have that anymore.
That also arose questions about Mr. Weekes. Why had he been so important?
Food soon arrived, and Mr. Myler went over the details of his business, giving the wealthy government workers his stats, and negotiating on their shares in the investment.
"Now, I'm not asking for much. Ten thousand from each of you, 5% share for each of you."
"Mmm." Brendon put down his silverware in thought. For the long time we had been here he hadn't taken more then three bites of his food. "I've seen worse deals, but. . ." he breathed out "maybe make that five thousand, and we will both leave this restaurant happy men."
Mr. Weekes bent over the table to watch, and contribute to, the haggling session in amusement. "Unless you are going to bring in a load of cash, I'm not sure I will settle for 5%. How much do you suppose you will make within then next year, sir?"
"Well, about that. . . not much. . . But if you invest I can use the money to improve my product."
Brendon shot him a polite smile and tilted his head a bit, resting his folded hands on the table. "How do you plan to do that, sir?"
Mr. Myler took out one of his many handkerchiefs and began to pat the sweat off of his face. "Well, I haven't planned that far, but I know I can do it."
"Good luck, Mr. Myler, but I'm out." Mrs. Gillan took a sip of her red wine.
"Sorry, Mister, but I am too," Mr. Huson gave him a handshake.
Mr. Weekes, unsurprisingly, announced that he wasn't taking part in the transaction, and as a last resort, Mr. Myler looked to Brendon.
Brendon was aware the attention was on him, and after a long stare at the nervous man in front of him, his attention shifted to me.
"Sir, normally I would decline this offer due to your answers," he took one last look at me and gave me the most genuine smile I'd ever seen him produce. "But I will make an exception. I will talk to you over the phone tomorrow and we will discuss. I plan to help you with your strategy and improve not only your product, but your personality. I would like to respectfully announce that you absolutely repulse me, sir, but I hope that after you've gone through a few of the things I would like to show you," his hands shifted a bit, "you will change."
Mr. Myler gulped, but happily accepted the deal, quite aware that it may be the only one he ever gets.
Dinner was wrapped up quickly, everyone dining with us leaving at the same time. On the way out, though, I sensed a strong gaze bore into my back, and I looked behind me to see Mr. Myler staring directly at my ass, not even hiding it.
I quickly gripped Brendon's suit jacket and tugged daintily.
"What is it, sweetheart?"
"Myler."
He looked behind him to see the man staring inappropriately at me, and he huffed, aggravated.
Without hesitation, he waited for me to walk a bit in front of him and stood behind me, his hands firmly on my shoulders as he escorted me out to his car. It managed to block Mr. Myler's view entirely, and I let out a soft whisper of gratitude.
"Oh, I'm definitely going to keep him from pulling that shit on any other women."
As soon as he slid into the driver's seat of his expensive sports car, he unbuttoned part of his undershirt and groaned. "Thank God that's over."
I giggled. "But, Brendon, aren't you hungry still? You didn't eat very much."
"Ah." He started the car. "I don't get hungry that often anymore."
I wasn't sure how that could happen. After all, everyone got hungry, but I let him be. Everyone has their own tendencies.
Almost at the blink of an eye, it seemed we were back at the Urie mansion, and he was leading me upstairs and talking about party preparations.
I walked into his room with him, boxes still scattered, and I had to crawl across his bed to get to his desk where he had a few notes scrawled down. Brendon was soon at my side and pulled out a notepad, lazily retreating to lay on his bed, hands behind his head.
"'White and blue clothing has to be worn to some degree and snowflakes must be present on all guests somewhere,' huh? 'The beverage cups as well as the table cloths must be red, but have snowflakes in some fashion.' Red, white, and blue, like a real American party."
He laughed. "Well, I was going for a more blue and white thing, and you suggested a little bit of red, so I put some in there."
I sat the notepad back down and gave him a smile. "Looks good. I'm going to, uh, go to my room now. It's getting kinda late." I looked around. There wasn't anyway to the door unless I crawled over his bed, which he was currently laying on. "Could you maybe, like, move or something?"
Brendon smirked and crossed his ankles, eyes closed as he relaxed. "Nah, I think I'll stay right where I am, princess."
I glared and lightly punched his arm. "Well, here goes nothing." I began to attempt to climb over him, not thinking. Not only was I wearing a very restraining dress, I decided to attempt to clamber over his torso when it would have been profusely easier to sneak past his feet.
Luck was not on my side. My knees caught in my dress as I tried my best to not show anything to him, and I toppled over, my knees now straddling his hips, and he opened an eye to stare at me, and his smirk grew.
"Wow, I didn't realize you were that kind of girl. You could have just asked, you know."
I payed no mind. My body was on autopilot as I tried to comprehend what had happened. I stared down at him underneath me, my hands resting on his chest for balance, his hair falling in his face, and his freckles. God, I could see his freckles.
Before I knew was I was doing, I closed the space between us, my lips dangerously close to his. I let them linger there, and he let out a low chuckle. I could feel the laugh vibrate in his chest, his heat near mine, and his goddamn lips. His lips with how soft they always looked.
I had kissed something in that moment, but it was definitely not on his face.
His index and middle fingers pressed against my lips as his other hand snaked down to take a firm hold of my hip. Brendon flipped me over so he was on top, his knee in between my thighs and his hands on either side of my head, propping himself up.
"You know, babe, that I'm not the submissive type," he purred, but soon his attitude faltered. "Although, it would be great if that mouth of yours was put to use." He tried his hand at another disgusting remark, but failed. It wasn't convincing, and we both knew that.
He stood up and grabbed my wrist, all but dragging me across the hall to my room. I was too stunned to respond, too shocked to process what had happened.
As soon as I was in my bedroom, he made his way back to the door and began to close it. "Goodnight, [y/n]. Sleep well."
"Brendon-"
"Good night."
I was left alone in a dark room, the light long forgotten. I heard heavy footsteps approach, but I ignored it and stared at my wrist. It was red with irritation after how hard he had grabbed it. He was tense, so tense.
"What did you do to her?" I recognized it as my father's voice. The same conversations outside my walls between my father and Brendon. The ones I could never understand. The ones I could never completely hear. I stared at my hands.
"Nothing's going as expected. . . side effects are worse." My head throbbed.
"Mentally? That's a huge issue. . . why. . . do this?" None of it made sense. None of it came together without every word, every bit of context.
Everything began to mix together. This was all too confusing for me. I stopped paying attention.
Brendon made another comment, before the conversation ended abruptly with a loud roar from my dad.
"I want my daughter back, Brendon! I don't know what the hell you did, but find some way to fix it! I know you made bad decisions in regards to these things, but you've made yourself a scumbag, an absolute scumbag, Brendon Urie."
The yelling ceased but never did the footsteps. They stomped away as I was left overwhelmed.
What had just happened?
Brendon had rejected my advances when he was the one always flirting with me.
I had almost trusted him.
Almost.
Thanks for reading!! Hope you liked this one <3
Also, I understand there is a lot of confusion with that last part, but I wrote it to arise confusion. It's supposed to confuse the reader. Sorry 'bout that! It was late when I wrote this lol