Black Lace (Complete)

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

Chapter Three

By the time I returned from the kitchens with a tray of tea and biscuits, Father had returned from his urgent business in the billiard room. He sat across from Mr. Herrera, elbows bent on his knees, speaking animatedly about topics I wouldn't dare to overhear. Father had always been very strict that Mother and I were not to deal with his business. So, letting their voices become faint murmurs in the back of my mind, I waded over to them, placing the tray neatly onto the long wooden coffee table.

My eyes made a quick scan of the room, but Mother was nowhere to be seen. Strange. Where was she?

"Thank you, Romina," Mr. Herrera said gratefully, turning to offer me a kind smile. It was a kind smile, yes. But it was also the kind of smile that rooted you in place and sent shivers down your spine.

"Yes, dear. Thank you." Father said hurriedly, clearly dismissing me. He was very busy with Mr. Herrera, it seemed. I curtseyed quickly and was about to run off when Mr. Herrera interrupted, voice as demanding as ever. His voice wasn't one you could simply ignore or tune out; it begged for and got your attention, intentionally or not.

So I did stop; the man spoke: "Romina is a young lady, is she not?" I heard him sip his tea, letting the gentle china sit back on its little plate. "Eighteen or so?"

When Father spoke, his voice was uncomfortable. "She is nineteen, turning twenty in a few months or so."

"Ah," Mr. Herrera hm-ed. The tension in the room became thick, boiled by our visitor's words and Father's inquisitive stare. "Most girls in your line of business would have been wedded off at...say, a younger age."

Father cleared his throat. "She's not currency to me."

"Of course not..." Mr. Herrera trailed off as I felt his eyes turn and roam my figure. I might have once described it as a sizzling heat, but it was a cold. Prickling and dangerous. I turned and smiled, hoping to be addressed instead of spoken of. Mr. Herrera's eyes met mine, and a knowing—perhaps even teasing—glint shone in their black dots. I had only ever been teased as a child by pestering maids, joking amiably about my muddy knees or grass stained dresses. But this teasing was something new. Something not entirely akin to teasing, something much more adult and mature.

I felt the heat rise in my neck, but my back still tingled with the lasting shards of his icy stare. "She is a beautiful young lady," he commented, receiving an arched brow from Father. "She is of course not currency, for she is a fortune in and of herself." I found my own brows threatening to rise at his words. What was he suggesting? Was this flirting? Was this courting?

"My father says I will marry at twenty," I cut in, feeling it necessary to get my word in on such personal matters. "No sooner."

"No sooner?" Mr. Herrera's sly brow rose, inciting the slight crow's foot developing along his sharp eyes. Everything about him was sharp. His words, his eyes, his jaw, his stare.

I was about to reply, taking in a breath as I parted my lips, but Father cut in, shooting me a stern glare. I quickly silenced whatever words might have left my mouth.

"It is late. Romina—" Father said sternly, leaving no room for arguing. "I believe your curfew is long past due. Our guest has arrived and now it is time for you to return to your chambers."

I nodded politely, fighting the urge to say that it was most certainly not my curfew; my curfew was in one hour and sixteen minutes, I counted precisely. But as I turned to go, Father spoke again, this time to Mr. Herrera.

"sorry for the interruption. Back to what we were discussing..."

I tuned out their voices until Mr. Herrera spoke again. "It actually is quite late. I might like to retire soon as well. Tomorrow we can continue this conversation." A moment of silence passed between the men, and I paused at the door, fingers brushing against the polished wood.

I heard someone stand, drawing my eyes to their figure. It was Mr. Herrera, fixing his collar around his veined neck, pulling at it to reveal toned skin underneath. My breath caught at the side of him, so tall and brooding, eyes angled down callously, as his quick fingers fixed his collar.

"Yes, of course." Father said.

Mr. Herrera nodded and turned back to the door, pausing as his eyes fixed in on me, standing there, watching them. My eyes widened and my lips parted as if to defend myself.

But I saw no surprise in his dark eyes. Upon seeing me, flushed from embarrassment...they seemed to darken. And though I knew he was heading to retire in his own chambers....I felt like he was heading to my own.