TWENTY | POOR BY DESIGN

Elodie was fastening her stud earrings when she heard some movements from the other side of the connecting door of her hotel suite.

They'd arrived in London around five in the morning after almost eleven hours of being in the air, and she'd been barely coherent when she was showed into her room by Hana.

Angelo had left her alone without a word or glance at her, but she did see him go through the door beside hers.

Hana had been gracious to let Elodie sleep until noon, at least, then came in to wake her thirty minutes ago, told her to dress for her late brunch with him.

Stomach churning, Elodie stood away from the dressing table and looked at her reflection.

She was wearing a thigh-length black dress with fitted bodice, and full-skirt.  On her feet were low-heeled black boots.

Elodie had swept her hair up into a bun, and dabbed a little bit of fragrance behind her ears, the insides of her wrists, and under her armpit.

She was so nervous that her hands were clammy.

It was her first time being out of the country, leaving her brother behind, and being in the company of someone who'd hurt her once, before; someone she didn't trust.

Elodie wiped her hands and rubbed lotion into them. Then, she left the bedroom.

She opened the connecting door—surprised when it gave way easily—and made a mental note to lock it before going back to bed, tonight.

The sitting room Elodie was admitted to took her breath away.

It had imposingly high ceilings, amazing glass walls that led out to a wide balcony laid out with a table and chairs and potted topiary. The mirrored wall that reflected the elegant silver patterned pale lavender wallpaper, the rich furnishings, and the deep-pile, white carpet.

It looked like the room Elodie had only seen in glossy magazines, and one of those fancy house re-modelings by people in Hollywood.

Angelo was looking down into the busy streets of Hyde Park and had not heard her footfalls on the soft carpets. It was only when her reflection showed in the glass that he turned.

The creases of his pants looked sharp enough to cut glass and his shoes were polished to a glossy shine. He was wearing a robins-blue suit and an open white shirt.

Elodie's eyes trailed up to his strong, working throat, the wicked straight mouth and up to his eyes; so arresting, dark and filled with dangerous secrets. They were watching her intently. Her breath caught.

In his hand was a bouquet of deep red roses with fat petals, and he held them out wordlessly to her.

Elodie recieved the flowers, sniffing at their fragrance. "Thank you for the flowers. They're beautiful."

"Come here," he said, half-sitting on the table behind him.

His voice was very soft. There was something in it she didn't understand, because Angelo had never used that tone with anyone in her presence.

Fingers tightening around the cellophane wrapper of her flowers, she went to him.

Angelo caught her by the waist and pulled her to him until she was trapped between his thighs. Elodie could feel the heat wafting off him body.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I used excessive force the last time we're together, and I didn't realize that you were..." He sighed. "I didn't know you were a virgin."

Elodie opened her mouth to tell him that it was okay, but what came out was, "You hurt me."

Then, she clamped her mouth shut, face flaming.

"I know," he replied. "And I'm so sorry your first time was like that."

Elodie wanted to tell him to stick his apology up his arsehole, but remembered that in order to even get her revenge on the first place, she had to get close to him.

"It's fine. You didn't know, and frankly, I also annoyed you."

"You look very beautiful."

Her face tinged with a dull red color, and Elodie cleared her throat, hoping to disguise her reaction to his words.

Wicked and violent Angelo, she was used to; in fact, she'd been prepared to have herself be used until she got what she wanted by help putting away the bastard for good.

No one had thought to warn her that the man was a chameleon. This soft Angelo wasn't factored into her plans, at all.

Angelo saw the blush, and placed his finger on her lower lip; tracing the lines with said finger. "Red is really your color."

Without warning, his expression changed. His mouth twisted. Something cold creeped into his eyes.

"We'd better go or we'll be late."

Elodie was relieved by the change and confused at the same time. Hot and cold. Prehaps, it was a game for him.

But he would not beat her. She could survive two weeks with this man and escape without any mishaps.

She thought of her brother and said,"Of course, we don't want to be late."

He offered her the crook of his arm. His words came out clipped and almost hostile. "Shall we?"

Elodie placed her flowers on the table behind him.

Angelo looked so pissed that she was almost afraid to slip her hand into his offered one. Nothing made sense.

Why is he angry with me?

Confused, she threaded her arm through his, and they left the suite.

*

Aragonn House was nestled on the edge of a place called Parson's Green.

The men were in dark suits, and the women were dressed to kill in cocktail dresses and suits alike. From its fancy light interior, to the garden and fancy bar, it was breath-taking.

A young man with a French accent settled them into a waiting area and offered them delicate bites of food and two glasses of sparkling champagne.

Waiters nodded and greeted Angelo by name as they passed. Apparently he was well known in this place.

Elodie wondered about how many women he'd brought to this place.

"They're called Peu d'aliments—Little food," Angelo explained and watched as she nibbled on the tiny offerings of mushrooms and hazelnuts with basil oil and salmon mousse. "How's it?"

"I've never tasted anything so divine in my life."

The sommelier came to help with the wine pairing of the food they were planning to get, but Angelo knew exactly what he wanted.

"The Domaine De Tourelles, 2021."

The sommelier looked pleased with Angelo's choice. The wine was brought and presented to Angelo.

When he nodded, it was uncorked and a small amount was poured into a deep glass and given to him. He swirled it, sniffed it delicately, and pronounced it acceptable.

A fourth of Elodie's glass was filled. She lifted it to her lips and tasted it. What passed for wine until then looked like coarse mixtures of grapes and vinegar. With complicated scents that delicately teased the senses and a distinctive smooth taste that glided down her throat, the wine was truly splendid.

Elodie studied the menu with fascination. There was something called Berbere Spicer Cauliflower, Green Asparagus Freekeh, and Batata Hara. There was also snail porridge, crab biscuits and quail jelly, chicken served with mayonnaise, charred lemon, sweet pickled onions, and something else she couldn't understand with oak moss and truffle oil.

Angelo chose the foie-gras to start.

Elodie sighed inwardly.

There was no way she was eating goose liver, no matter how fancy it looked on plate.

The waiter looked at her.

"I won't bother with a starter, thank you."

The waiter moved away, and Angelo's eyes lighted on her. "You can't read very well, can you?"

Elodie tiled her head back. "I can read just fine, thank you."

"What was I supposed to think? You just skimmed through the menu just now and didn't order a thing. Why?"

Elodie decided to be honest. "I don't like foie-gras."

Not taking his eyes off her, Angelo raised a hand slightly. Immediately, a waiter appeared at his side. "The lady would like to see the menu again, please. And hold the order from earlier."

"Of course, sir."

Angelo kept his eyes on her until the waiter arrived with the menu.

"Would you like a moment with it?"

"No," Elodie said. "I know what I want. I'd like the Chicken and Pistachio Shish to start and the roasted aubergine."

When he was gone, Angelo said, "So, what have you always planned to do if you ever got the chance to visit London?"

"Sightseeing, I guess. There are many spots in London I've always wanted to visit: like the Big Ben, The London Eye, the garden, Buckingham palace, amongst many others."

He frowned. "I won't be around to take you all over London."

Elodie returned the frown. "You asked."

"You can go with Hana, then," he simply concluded. "But, I don't want you to be too preoccupied."

Maybe this was her chance to get closer to him, especially if he was about to suggest that she accompany him to his meetings.

"Why?"

"Because I want you to be available to me whenever I need you. I might want to fuck you at one in the morning, or between meetings in the afternoon," he explained brutally.

The image his words conjured were explicit and all Elodie could see was him holding her down by the neck, and taking her brutally from behind.

A surprising thrill clenched low in her belly.

"It should be no problem forr you."

Those words quenched whatever fire had been starting out in her lower regions.

Elodie narrowed her eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't you live in the part of town where nobody works and those who do work immerse themselves in doing illegal things like sell drugs or peddle their bodies for a bit of cash?"

Elodie shook her head in wonder. "Wow. What a sweeping generalization."

"Why? Isn't it true?"

"You know, there are plenty of people like you in Sunset Bay—the uppercrusts—who'd told me the same thing when I tried to search for a job in Bayview. They expressed just how much they hated the people from Aqualine Bay, and how we were parasites." She looked him in the eye. "It hurt me at the time because all I could think of was how much vitriol I was getting just because of the place I came from, even after all I'd lost. Was it so wrong to want to make my life just a little bit easier? Why shouldn't we get the opportunities others from other parts of Sunset Bay get because of the part we live in? Then, one day, I learned the nature of parasites and my life and thinking changed."

Angelo raised an eyebrow.

The bastard.

"I learned that a successful parasite is one that is not recognized by its host, one that can make its host work for it without appearing as a burden. As such, it must be every ruling class in a capitalist society that is the parasite."

"In what way?" He scoffed.

Elodie took a sip of the wonderful wine he'd paid for. "How much tax did you pay in the last two years?"

He leaned back and regarded her without flinching. "I paid what was legally due."

She scoffed, and took delight in doing it. "Let me guess. Almost nothing."

He shrugged. "There is nothing wrong with legal tax avoidance schemes. And we are generous enough to let the government take our hard earned money, and pass it to the lazy masses who don't work and expect others to fund their lifestyles."

Elodie shook her head. "Do you believe in what you're saying?"

"Of course, I do."

Their food arrived. It looked more like a work of art than food. Elodie reached for the rounded spoon that's been placed furthest away.

Angelo picked up his knife and fork. "You don't have anything more to say on the topic?"

"I can't make you change your views on the topic, so why bother at all?"

He shifted in his chair. "Which means I am right."

"Have you ever thought that people can be poor by design? Some people aren't given a chance in life at all. Being born into a struggling family, goes to school to get a bit of education where we're all thought to be a good worker. Then, their parents rack up a huge debt, another problem arises, parents dies, and more problems. That child is doomed to repeat their parent's lives. I've only ever been taught three things in my life: work, earn money, pay your own way."

"So, why do you only work part-time?"

Oh, so he did a bit of research about her?

"I do that because my brother is sick and I am his secondary carer."

"What's wrong with your brother?"

"He's in a vegetative state."

"Oh."

"But he will be fine," she said forcefully.

He nodded slowly.

Elodie sat back and watched Angelo while their plates were cleared away.

The hard planes of his face had softened, and for a mad minute, Elodie wanted to reach out and stroke his face.

She balled her hand into a fist.

"I don't like discussing my brother."

"Main course," announced their waiter, and plates were lowered onto the table.

The roasted Aubergine was filled with cashew tartor, grated eggs, fermented sour mango and coriander.

Elodie cut off a piece of it with her knife and brought it to her mouth with her fork. It was delicate and filled with flavours that was subtle but packed a punch at the same time.

"I have a favour to ask," She told him.

Angelo raised an eyebrow.

"It's nothing much."

"Sure," he said.

"You're agreeing without even knowing what it is?"

"You don't look like the type to ask for a favour so easily, so I'm curious as to what it is."

"Can I accompany you to some of your meetings, please? It's just that I'd be sitting at the suite doing nothing and since you plan to be here for the next two weeks, I don't mind tagging along," she said so quickly that the words almost ran into each other.

"Some of my meetings would be dangerous, and you aren't experienced enough to handle yourself in situations like that."

"So, teach me."

He smiled cynically. "You won't be accompanying me, so I see no reason to do so."

"Think of it as an owed favour. Who knows, maybe one day, I'd be able to return it."

He eyed her for a moment, then nodded. "I'll remember that."

The silence that enveloped them wasn't painful or awkward, and they finished their meals in relative peace.

He ordered the strawberry sorbet for dessert and she ordered the same.

The dessert was so delicious that Elodie wished Mace could try it.

After their ice-cream, the bill arrived.

She caught a glimpse of it.

It was over five thousand and a half pounds.

That was more than what she spent for her bills in six months.

It must be good to be so rich.

Elodie glanced at him in shock.

He returned her look with a raised brow.

And suddenly, he seemed so devastatingly aloof and unreachable that it was as though she was looking at him through a glass window with her face pressed up against it.

His gaze turned sulturous, and fire slowly licked up the fair parts of his irses, making them burn a bright golden color.

Without a doubt, Elodie knew that he was going to fuck her when they got back to the hotel.

















A/N:

Happy Sunday. And yeah, this is a weekend update this time. I do hope you enjoyed this chapter.

What part of this chapter do you like best?

Have you ever visited London?

How was it?

Is there a place you want to visit later when you have the funds/time?

What's the first thing you plan on doing when you get there?

Thank you so much for reading.

Don't forget to vote, comment and share❤️❤️❤️❤️

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