C H A P T E R 9

After Henry left, I stayed in my seat, shocked into silence.

I never expected everything to turn out so bad. But there I was, sulking alone in a cafe.

It was the first time I ever felt, alone. When I needed my best friend the most, he had deserted me for his own emotions.

Not to mention he didn't even pay the bill.

"Henry, you milk dud," I whispered to myself, before slapping a ten dollar bill I had in my pocket, on the table and rushing outside.

The cool air felt good on my burnt cheeks. And the tingling sensation in my hands gave me a sense of dread and exhilaration at the same time. I hadn't pick pocketed in a few days (a personal record, might I add) would I be able to stop if I started again?

But as usual, treacherous anger got the best of me, like it did everytime. And in a few minutes, my hands were slipping into pockets without thinking.

My eyes darted

1 wallet-

A soft leather wallet. It slid easily into my bag.

2 wallets-

Why did this feel so wrong?

HONK!

I yelped, fumbling to pocket the wallet I had just grabbed.

"We have to go."

I closed my eyes and tried to calm my racing heart. "You scared me."

"I don't care!" Pierre said, looking slightly unnerved, "Look, there's an emergency, we have to get home."

"I'm kind of busy-"

Before I could finish my sentence, I was pulled into the car and we were speeding away like there was no tomorrow.

I scowled at the interior of the limo. "Bit much, don't you think?"

"Funny. Look, we have an emergency. My family's coming over for dinner tonight and I need you to-"

"Wait," my mouth dangled,"Your family is coming over, on the fourth day we've met?"

The color seemed to drain out of his cheeks.

"Yeah about that," he chuckled nervously, "I've kind of told them that we've been dating for six months."

I gasped. Six months? What was this, an episode in the Bachelor? What was I going to do? What was I going to say? Panic overwhelmed me at the thought of having to pretend that I knew everything about Pierre when I didn't even know what his middle name was. And to his family.

"I think I'm going to barf," I said weakly.

"No you don't," Pierre jumped away, "not in this car!"

"You don't understand!" I yelled, "How dare you put this stress on me last minute! Do you have any idea what your family might say if they find out that I don't even know you? They'll probably think I'm some kind of gold digger or something! They can destroy my life!"

Pierre gulped nervously.

"Yeah, you better be scared!" I screeched, "Because if I'm going down you're going down with me!"

"L-look, we can sort this out-" Pierre seemed pretty petrified in the moment, which was giving me a generous ego boost.

"The only thing we'll be sorting out is where to put your body after I kill you."

"If they find out, I'll say it's my idea, okay?" Pierre finally sighed, making me slump back in relief.

"Thank god," I heaved a huge breath of relief. I was about to break down if he didn't give in after two more seconds. Just the thought of his family finding out gave me shivers.

"Does your dad know about this?" I asked. Pierre shook his head.

"My dad won't tell anyone, but he won't be happy when he finds out that I've been lying to the rest of the family."

"Jesus Mary Joseph," I groaned, and put my hands in my head. This was a recipe for disaster.

. . . . . .

Pierre had ushered me into a lavish closet of gowns before scurrying off. Mercy, Pierre's maid, came in a little later to help me get ready.

"You don't seem to be happy, dear," Mercy pointed out while adjusting the hem of the dress. I looked at myself in the mirror and felt like puking. The royal blue made my skin look white in the light, and the expensive jewels shone. The dress hugged my body in a different way, one that brought out my feminine side, but I wasn't happy in it. I was more than a little uncomfortable.

I wasn't made to wear this.

"Oh it's nothing," I said, trying to smile even though I just felt like bolting in the moment.

"I know it's not fine," Mercy persisted, her accent growing heavier, "You're making that face my son makes when he's... confused."

Was I confused? More like angry. I was angry, and scared, and full of nerves.

"I don't like this dress," I said, trying to pull it off while it was still on me. I was getting panicked. Panicked was not good. "I need to take it off!"

Mercy put a gentle hand on my shoulder. I stopped fidgeting. "It's okay to be scared, darling. But don't worry, they will love you."

Oh, I wasn't worried about that. But I still gave Mercy a weak smile before letting my hands rest by my side.

"Remi, are you rea-"

Pierre stopped halfway through the doorway to gawk at me.

I shifted uncomfortable on my feet. "What? Do I look weird?"

"No, no, it's not that," Pierre stumbled for words, "It's just... that's my mother's dress."

I gasped. "Oh, um, if it makes you uncomfortable I can take it off..."

"No, it's fine," Pierre quickly said before glancing at me. "You look... nice."

Then he slammed the door.

"See, I tell you!" Mercy said excitedly, but there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. Was it about Pierre's mother? Worry plagued me again. Was it weird that I was wearing his mom's dress? I felt horrible wearing something that obviously meant a lot to Pierre when I didn't mean anything to him.

"Right," I replied. I could hear people entering the building, bustling and chattering. My heart beat spiked up.

Mercy gestured for me to go, but I felt rooted to my spot. After a few more minutes of coaxing, she then pushed me out.

I stumbled a little before opening the door and hesitantly walking into the crowd of elites.

I saw Pierre talking to some socialites, and started to walk towards him when I suddenly jolted to a stop.

Our eyes met, brown to brown, his hair still looked slightly disheveled but he seemed to have cleaned up remarkably. But even without the bags under his eyes and the slurred voice, I would have recognized him anywhere.

"Dad?"

. . . . . .

A/N: This is such a bad update. Ha.