Page 100 of Mr. Aster
“Tina, my love, you are always so full of sunshine, but please sit down and allow Darcy and Sebastian to join us at the table,” Billy laughed, bringing my attention to my father’s solemn gaze. It looked like he was intently studying the corpse at a funeral,
“Lovely to see you, Mr. Burke,” I acknowledged the friendly man while pulling out Darcy’s chair for her to sit in, then carefully sitting at her side and bringing my attention to the last man in the room I cared to speak to. “Father, it is nice to see you looking well.”
“Likewise,” he said, leaning back while Ines poured the wine for us.
When Ines arrived at me, I covered the glass to reject it, sending the impression to my dad that I wasn’t going to participate in this bullshit move he pulled, importing French wine to dinner at a goddamn California winery.
“Is there a problem with the wine?” my father said, most likely chomping at the bit for a combative moment between him and me.
He wanted me alive, right? He’d wanted to get his son back in the game and ready to take over the family business when he was worried I wouldn’t have what it took after losing Melissa. Well, he was about to see that I was back, and he had the stunning gem at my side to thank for that.
“Yes, indeed, there is,” I answered.
“Please, inform us,” my father said, and everyone seemed to disappear as we intently focused on each other. “What could be the problem with the perfect wine to complement this meal that your mother requested?”
“The fact that you’re sitting in a winery you invested in and making the presumption that its wines cannot enhance the flavors of the meal. Instead, you brought in a foreign wine.”
“It was your mother’s choice,” my dad answered coldly.
“Happy wife, happy life,” Billy said, all smiles and shockingly not insulted by what my parents were trying to pull on everyone at this table.
“And if you know that,” Tina said, leaning over to reach eye contact with me from where she sat to the right of Darcy, “this marriage will work out flawlessly.”
“If you will not drink the wine I’ve chosen for this dining experience, what will you drink, my dear son?” my mother said in a tone I knew was condescending, but everyone else probably thought it sounded like she was concerned.
I looked at Ines, who seemed to be waiting for my response. Saying I would stick to drinking water would make me seem like a little bitch, and I was not about to go down that road.
“I prefer the 2017 Cabernet from our vineyard,” I said with a smile.
“Deliciouschoice,” Billy added. Typically, his personality would’ve been irritating, but I appreciated it right now. “Next time, you need to try that one. That was a good year for the estate and one of our preferred cabernets,” Billy said, speaking to my father, but the man’s eyes were like dead fisheyes, deep set in their dark irises and focused solely on me.
“Dinner is served,” Antonio said, breaking the icy dark, ominous cloud of my father’s threatening gaze.
The night and dinner were just getting started, and once we broke free of all the distractions at this dinner table, my father would have his talk with me. Little did he know that I was prepared for his bullshit. The young bull was about to take on the old bull of the family, and this time, I was prepared to win that battle and get this power struggle that’d gone on too long between my father and me out of the way.
Chapter Forty-Two
Darcy
My parents were in full swing of embarrassing themselves in every way possible in front of two of the most influential people in the world, and part of me found relief in that. I loved that my parents could be real no matter who they were with.
It was pure comedy that Sebastian’s parents had shipped in food for Antonio to prepare to accommodate their stuck-up eating habits since that’s what Sebastian had done with his ridiculous, fancy tequila and remodeling the place so he could live amongst us comfortably. I found it intriguing that Sebastian was annoyed that his parents were exhibiting the same behaviors he had demonstrated.
“And for you, Señorita Darcy,” Antonio said, setting my plate down minus the lamb because he knew I wouldn’t eat if he paid me to.
“This food smells so delicious, Antonio,” Mom said with delight. “I love that you can cook anything we bring into thatkitchen and make it better than any other chef in the world.” She smiled warmly while Antonio went to the other side of the table where Sebastian’s parents and my dad sat.
The seating arrangements gave me a good laugh, too. I’m sure the Asters expected to have formal dining placements, with the two patriarchs seated at either end of the table, but my family didn’t give a damn about formality or patriarchy, for that matter. Certainly, the Asters must’ve felt like they were sitting at a backyard barbecue with all of us facing each other at the center of the table. They were probably expecting the food to be served on paper plates.
The energy exuding from Sebastian’s dad, who sat directly across from Sebastian, was palpable and filled with a thickness of growing agitation and masculinity that my father, bless his naïve heart, kept breaking with lighthearted jokes.
“I see you’ve not taken the lamb. May I ask why?” Sebastian’s mother questioned, her piercing eyes studying me. She sat as straight as an arrow like she’d been planted on a stake. She looked as uncomfortable as hell but seemed perfectly relaxed in her rigid posture.
“I hate lamb,” I said without fear or apology. “I’ve yet to taste a bite of lamb that doesn’t remind me of a petting zoo.” I shrugged while both my parents laughed at my honesty.
“If I had known, I wouldn’t have requested the meal,” she said, as if I were visitingherhouse andherchef had wasted time preparing the food.
“There’s one thing you should know about me,” I said, sipping their wine, which tasted like any other wine in my honest, non-wine enthusiast opinion. “I don’t expect anyone to accommodate my needs, especially while eating. I’d rather everyone else enjoy the food, regardless of whether my taste buds like it.”
