Mr. Azad's unexpected visitations were making my teeth on edge. Last time he had stopped by, nearly a month ago, dinner was awkward and Zayn threw a heavy tantrum against me because of my supposed "rudeness" towards his father when, in fact, that rudeness was just awkwardness. Today's dinner, I was assured, would fall no less awkward. However, I tried, with every fiber in my being, to create a more pleasant atmosphere.
He was to stop by around seven that evening, giving me a fair hour or so to prepare myself. When it all came down to it, I did not want to anger Zayn. It was as simple as that. As of late, things had been rather placid with him and we hadn't gotten into many major arguments; of course, we'd quarrel daily about tiny, nonsensical things but they were hardly noteworthy. I wanted to keep the pace at which things were going. I changed into something conservative and quite "daughter-in-law-esque," a plain white dress with white stockings and white heels. Upon mirror inspection, I looked like a child going to a ballet recital. And that was just what I was going for.
I headed down the staircase and into the dining room, where I found Lisa and another maid assembling silverware and cloth napkins around the mahogany table. I greeted them and began setting the table with them, placing large forks to the right of the dinner plates and smaller ones to the left. Despite Lisa urging me to stop trying to help her with her job, I followed her into the chef's kitchen where we brought up a few of the appetizers. Whilst spending time in the kitchen, I ended up avoiding Liam like the plague. It wasn't entirely intentional but I was happy I didn't run into him; God knows how awkward that would have felt. I joined Lisa back in the dining room where we set the basket of dinner rolls and other starting snacks into the center of the posh mahogany. With fifteen minutes left on the clock, we had made good time.
As I washed my hands in the kitchen, Lisa asked me a question.
"Where is Master Zayn?"
I turned off the faucet and shook my hands over the sink, tiny droplets of water splattering against the fine silver lining. I grabbed a towel and dried my hands as I thought. "He's running late at work, I believe. His secretary gave me a forewarning."
Lisa let out a sigh of relief. "I thought this would turn into another episode of Master arriving a day later without any notice whatsoever."
I laughed awkwardly. "He'll be here-" Before I could finish, I heard the front door open. A smile crept onto my face, one of consolation. I had, for a split second, entertained the possibility that Zayn would have run off to Rebecca's home again. As I saw him amble into the dining room, every muscle of my body relaxed.
"Late night?" I tried to sound nonchalant, attending to a cloth napkin I had seen fall from the table. As I reached down and placed it back onto the table, I saw that he was watching me intently.
"Try to make an effort." He mumbled.
"I was planning on it," I stated, pressing the fabric again the hard surface of the mahogany.
He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "You say that, but last time-"
"I'll behave!" I affirmed as confidently as I could.
His lips twitched. "Smashing."
We both took seats at the dining table, opposite one another, as a series of maids came into the room and began filling our tall glasses with water. Music could be heard from the living area, as someone must have switched on the music player; it was a beautiful orchestrated symphony of violins and cellos and, occasionally, piano. The sounds were soothing to my ears and created the perfect soundtrack to the evening's meal. They were the sounds of wealth and luxury, I realized.
After some time, we were graced with Mr. Azad's presence. When he entered the room, apologizing profusely for his tardiness, we both stood up. I gave him the widest, most genuine smile I could muster. Zayn seemed mildly entertained by my dramatic change in behavior, though I believe I had acted in a similar manner when we greeted him at the charity banquet. I suppose that and this were two completely different things; everyone has to fake a positive attitude when at such a large gathering like Mr. Smithberg's party.
