Chapter 2: Frustrated 

Christy barely let Franklin finish his question before a bright smile spread across her face. “Sure,” she said. “I’ll get dressed and wait for you.”

Franklin released a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He’d braced for a scene—for icy silence or a tantrum after ignoring her the entire previous day—but none came.

“I’ll be there in minutes,” he promised, then hung up.

Christy stood, smiling to herself, and hurried into the shower. When she emerged, she slipped into a sleek, body-hugging dress that traced her curves. A quick, deft touch of makeup, a careful sweep through her hair, and she paused before the mirror. Satisfaction tugged her lips into a grin.

Her phone rang. She answered, then grabbed her purse and stepped into her heels. Outside, Franklin was already waiting, leaning against his car with his phone in hand. The door creaked; he glanced up—and froze.

“Wow. Wow. Wow,” he breathed, eyes widening. “You look gorgeous.”

Christy gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. He stepped toward her, instinctively reaching for her arm. She moved back, avoiding his touch.

His hand hung awkwardly in the air before he let it fall. He tried for a light smile. “Are you mad at me, babe? Yo—”

“Your grandfather is probably waiting for us,” she cut in, voice cool.

He searched her face and understood: she wasn’t interested in excuses. He lifted his hands in surrender. “Alright. Let’s go, then.”

Franklin turned around and got into the car. Christy did the same. He started the engine and tried to strike up a conversation, but she stayed silent, her lips pressed into a tight line.

“Are you still mad at me? I know I neglected your feelings—and I made you spend Christmas Eve alone. You know the nature of my job. I’m always pulled into meetings and client dinners. It’s really troublesome. I have to manage all of this. I promise I’ll make it up to you,” Franklin rambled, but Christy said nothing.

When he realized she wasn’t interested, he gave up, quietly pinning his hopes on their meeting with his grandfather to soften her mood.

He pulled into the parking lot of his grandfather’s mansion and tapped the brakes. To his surprise, Christy was out of the car before he was. He hurried after her as she headed straight for the entrance.

“Why are you running off like that? Do you even know your way around?” he complained.

“Let’s not keep your grandfather waiting,” Christy replied calmly.

The front door swung open, and Mr. Winchester stepped outside, his voice booming with laughter. “What are you two arguing about, lovebirds?”

To Franklin’s shock, Christy dropped their conversation and ran up to the old man with a bright smile. “Hello, Mr. Winchester. I’ve heard so much about you from my friend Franklin—you’re very handsome.”

She offered her hand. Mr. Winchester, who had been told earlier that Franklin was bringing his girlfriend to dinner, shot Franklin a questioning look but took the handshake anyway.

“I heard you’re a great piano player,” Christy continued, “and a former state champion in snooker. I hope those old hands aren’t worn out.”

Winchester’s eyes lit up. “Getting old hasn’t dulled my love for the game—or my ability,” he said, chuckling.

“How about we see how good the state champion really is?” Christy teased.

Franklin watched them coldly, dissatisfaction tightening his jaw. His lips were set, his fists clenched, the vein in his forehead throbbing as Christy and Winchester walked inside together, chatting and laughing. What stung most was that she had just called him her friend.

Seething, he turned back toward the car, ready to leave. But the thought of his grandfather being charmed beyond reason by Christy jarred him. Panic prickled under his skin. He pivoted and strode briskly into the house.

Franklin found the sitting-room empty. He guessed they had possibly gone to his grandfather's game-room. He hurried over and saw his grandfather behind Christy, and what made his face darken was that Christy was purposely grinding his grandfather's groin, and he didn't reject it, as he tutored her on how to position and target the cue ball.

Franklin’s eyes were spewing fire in anger. He coughed loudly to attract their attention, but to his shock, his grandfather looked toward him and chided, “You should go and drink water; you ain’t a kid anymore.”

What made Franklin’s heart bleed was when Christy didn’t even bother looking in his direction. This hurt him so much that he stormed off. He directly walked toward the exit of the house aggressively, but the thought of his grandfather and Christy kissing made his heart skip a beat.

He quickly darted back toward the direction of the game-room, but he changed his mind and went toward the kitchen. He met the head chef and asked coldly, “Why have you not served dinner? Are you fucking paid to laze around, huh?”

The head chef wanted to speak, but Franklin didn’t let him do that. He retorted with an order, “Serve the dinner, or I am going to make sure none of you get a paycheck.”

Then he turned around and left, leaving the kitchen staff confused; they had never seen him this angry before.

When he returned to the game-room, he was shocked that his grandfather was still sticking to Christy’s butt. Pissed, he coughed and then said angrily, “Grandpa, dinner is ready. We should go and eat; the food is going to lose its flavour if it gets cold.”

Winchester regrettably sighed and said, “Christy is such a good student. If given time, she would be a pro.”

Franklin’s face became sullen, and he reminded his grandfather, “Grandpa, Christy is my gi—”

Christy immediately interrupted him, saying, “As your grandson’s friend, can I have your number, Mr. Winchester?”