0.39 | Trouble Usually Finds Her

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"I'm delighted to know about their babymoon. Nonetheless, their parents have graced the occasion with their benign presence── Mr and Mrs Lattif, please enjoy yourselves." Mrs. Warner addressed the Arabian couple and attended to another couple in her conservative mauve dress; her thin golden wristwatch clasped around delicately, hair neatly spun and a golden brooch glimmering in the rich scents of her dress.

"The arrangements are perfect to the t like always. Now we shall see the real element of attraction, your daughter." The man with the wheaten hair chuckled in sincerity, exchanging glances with his nervous son who held a half-consumed flute of champagne.

"My husband forced me to get here all the way from Australia. I even had to cancel my Cuba vacation and face up my friends. Who calls anyone at such short notice?" The paper-thin woman rolled her sharp green eyes. She was wearing a crunched red top with pristine white palazzo and pointed heels.

"I hear you, Camille. I'll try my best to give you a more wonderful experience. You will get your Cuba right here under this chandelier." Mrs Warner smiled in mockery. "Waiter! Please top off Mrs Atwood's glass with a fresh mojito. And tell the chef to include Cuban staple in the entrèes."

"Wha--"

Her son interjected, looking extremely pissed off. "Mom, come on. It has to be right now." He looked up and leaned to ask, "The news is spectacular, Mrs Warner. You must have missed her so much."

"The divine forces from above and below made this miracle possible. That's all I can say." Mrs Warner's placed her hand softly on the boy's shoulder. She grew sentimental but never let her confidence fade away.

As she stepped back to join another couple gaping at her, she heard the same woman bite, "I'm waiting for the time when her so-called daughter will get her naked in front of everyone." She bore holes in Mrs Warner's back. "A girl whose identity was kept away from the limelight for all this time, suddenly unearthing this nonsensical piece of shit in the name of a miracle, I rest my case."

Mrs. Warner turned a deaf ear to this and padded toward Mary who stood silently near the beaufet. She was witnessing everyone's loud reactions and once she saw Mrs. Warner coming onward, she turned herself slightly. Mary didn't talk much to her after the previous incident which only created huge differences between them.

"Everyone is waiting for her. We shall call her down." Mrs Warner chimed, rubbing her hands out of nervousness and excitement. After all, her pride rested in the fact that she found her daughter in a well-off condition.

Mary gave a single deep nod and gesticulated to Lucy to proceed with the unsaid command.

***

Ruby was wearing a nude color off-shoulder gown with an applique of sober glitters around her bust, leaving the back exposed. Her very own necklace sat a few inches below her collarbone. A simple, pulled-back style with softly curled ends like Huntington-Whiteley.

Her almond-shaped eyes were accentuated with a peacock green eye shadow and black kohl. Modern yet classy. She was sitting before the mirror on the couch. Ruby was too caught up in her thoughts that she had scarcely noticed someone standing right beside her.

Until a note of bergamot drifted in her nose. She looked up at the son of a business baron. His appearance was so different today in comparison to the rest of the days she had encountered him. Not just his golden hair looked tidy and pulled back with an extreme amount of gel, but a cloaked devil playing in his blue eyes determined the strangeness.

"Who allowed you to come inside?" Ruby began to move away from him.

"Who? Who can stop from entering inside, Eli? I'm not a stranger, and for the records, I've never been one in your absence." Without breaking eye contact, Tasher took a few steps onward. His voice was exceptionally flat and his mouth parted slightly. It was evident that he was here to wreak vengeance against her for treating him like an untouchable creep all this time. Yes. He literally wanted her to touch him. To be a submissive partner, where he could just inchoate to asperse the colors of his machoism. "Nobody can stop me from doing what I want. I think there is a little problem with your head that keeps on underestimating the power I hold."

0.1 | No Exit from Deception ✓ Where stories live. Discover now