CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Ivanna’s POV

The truth about my visit to the estate wasn’t because I had a genuine reason for going.

For some reason I couldn’t phantom, Xavier was acting weird lately. I mean so weird, and it’s less than two weeks to our engagement already, I can’t afford to condone any lapses at this point. I went to check on him at his penthouse but he wasn’t there. I called him and he wasn’t picking either, so, I had to add one plus one and I guessed he could be at his grandfather’s estate.

Though, going to the Beaumont’s estate means killing two birds with one stone. I know Xavier’s grandfather, Arthur had always had strong opinions about table positioning at formal events, an old habit developed across decades of hosting quite a number of it.

Pamela had listed it out specifically that getting his input early would save at least two rounds of revision later.

So, you can say I had a genuine reason also. Nevertheless, I’m already at the estate ground.

The house was calm when I entered, on one of the couch in the sitting room was a little boy sprawled on it, his attention focused on the cartoon movie he was watching on the large screen.

What caught me at first was the striking resemblance this little boy had with Xavier. Almost as if Xavier was splitter into two.

I looked at him as I walked on, until I hit my left knee against the couch because of lack of concentration.

“Ouch.” I screamed out a bit and the noise caught the attention of the little boy.

“Oh! Sorry Miss,” he said in a bright, chirpy voice.

I staggered backward uneasily. ‘Is it possible to have such a striking resemblance?’ I argued within myself.

The little noise may have caught the attention of the housekeeper, Margaret. She came out of the kitchen, wiping her hand against the towel.

“Hello, Miss Sinclair,” she greeted.

I answered with a nod, rubbing my knee that I hit against the couch.

“Is Arthur at home?” I asked.

“He’s in the study with young master,” she replied.

By ‘young master,’ I knew she meant Xavier. Just like I had thought.

I took another glance at the child on the couch. He was back at the cartoon he was watching, his back turned at me. I clenched my bag tightly and walked toward the study room, my white stiletto heels clicked softly behind me as I walked.

Arthur was at the desk when I opened the study room door, Xavier was sitting across from him and it seems they were in the middle of a conversation before I entered.

Arthur was gracious as always, while Xavier, dangerously handsome as always, but what putting on a cold expression that immediately told me I wasn’t welcome.

I ignored that anyway, with my engagement just around the corner, an event that makes the first step to being a Beaumont family member officially.

Who cares about what the groom wants or not. The most important person in the room should be me and me alone.

***

Even though I wanted Arthur to be out like he intended to, I wanted to be left with Xavier alone in the study room, there had been some crazy fantasies I had most times when I visit the estate, most times in the company of my father.

One of these fantasies was to make out with Xavier in this old study room.

I want to feed him my boobs and watch him scream my name why I ride him like a horse.

I had watched a pornographic movie around that then, where the school girl fucked her young boyfriend in the school library.

I had always wanted same. But Arthur leaving could mean Xavier leaving too. I know him too well to do that.

I pulled at Arthur’s hand gently. “Why don’t you stay, Papa?” I asked sweetly.

He glanced over to Xavier briefly.

“What can this old man contribute to you, young folks talks?” He asked with a grin.

“A lot.” I replied, pulling him back to hi seat gently.

He complied and sat back in his chair. Xavier was quiet all these moment, staring at God knows what on his phone.

Arthur suggested tea and rang Margaret for it, which I gladly accepted, even though I didn’t feel like having one. This was the best time to be closer to the Beaumont oldest family than ever, and I can’t blow my chances.

Margaret appeared with the tray carrying a jug of chamomile tea and three cups. Margaret had always being extraordinarily good with tea for moments like this.

The conversation about the seating arrangements was productive. Arthur had views about which of the Sinclair associates should be positioned relatively with the Beaumont board members, delivered with the diplomatic accuracy of a man who understood that where people sat at a table communicated things that the table conversation itself never would.

Xavier contributed to little, he only spoke when asked and deflected when not, which speaks more of his view to conversations surrounding the engagement ceremony that he hadn’t initiated.

I read little or no meaning to it.

We were wrapping up with the seating discussion when the door opened again, the little boy I saw in the sitting room earlier entered, his small feet in hurried steps with the rhythm of a child moving through a large house with zero concern for the acoustic effect.

“Bryan.” Arthur called and the boy hurried up to him.

‘Bryan,’ I repeated in my mind. Who is he? Why this so much resemblance? Maybe he was a distant relative of the Beaumonts, I shrugged and pushed the thoughts away.

“Papa,” he said, looking up to Arthur while Arthur fondled with his hair, “the cartoon finished and I’m bored.”

“Go to any of the book shelves and grab a story book,” Arthur said, his voice calm like the patient warmth of someone who had heard this particular complaint before and had prepared for it.

“I’ve read all the good ones,” Bryan replied with a pouty look.

Then he looked at me with the frank, uncomplicated assessment of a kid who had not yet learned that staring at strangers was considered impolite.

“You’re the old lady from earlier,” he said.

My eyes widened. “Me? Old? You must have gotten it wrong,” I said between a fake faint smile. “You’ve gotten it all wrong, I’m a young lady.”

His little brows pulled together. “Are you my age?”

“Oh! No!” I smiled genuinely now, I understand him better. “I’m not your age mate, but I’m still a young woman.” I groped for the right word to use. “See me as your mom,” I concluded.

His little brows furrowed again. “No,” he said firmly, “my mother is prettier than you are.”

I could see the light smile that curled up Xavier’s lips despite his feigned focus. Arthur on the other hand couldn’t hide his laughter.

As embarrassed as I was, I held my hand out to Bryan. “Call me Ivanna,” I said.

His tiny hand took mine and shook it softly. Then his countenance turned serious again.

“Are you Xavier’s girlfriend?” His little voice asked.

“Fiancée,” I corrected.

“Who is a fiancée?” He asked with a puzzled face.

“A woman who is engaged and about to marry.” I answered with a wide smile. A smile to mark my territory.

“Does that means, you will be daddy and mommy to your children.” He asked again.

I gawked. “Of course.”

He lowered his eyes. “I don’t have a father, mom said-“

“I think you should let Aunty rest,” Arthur cuts in and pulled Bryan to his chest.

“Okay,” he said, apparently satisfied, and turned back to Arthur. “Papa, can I have a biscuit?”

“After dinner,” Arthur said.

I watched Bryan. There was something about him that had been snagging at the edge of my attention since I saw him, a feeling I couldn’t really place.

I picked up my tea cup.