Aristrocracy

“Do you like pancakes, sexy?” Draco said as he clipped his cigar. 

When he heard nothing from her, he looked up with a smile at her confused face.

“What does that have to do with my texts?”

“The wh*re should be as flat as a pancake in another three minutes.” He tapped his phone and, when it came on, his eyes read the time. “Ah. Two minutes actually.”

“No.” Ophelia gasped and almost fell. He stared at her in confusion now. 

“I thought that is what you wanted?” he asked. 

“No Draco, I never meant to send you that text. I had no idea it was sent anyway until several minutes ago.”

“So someone troubles you so much, and you’re hiding that away from me?” 

“Get over yourself. Not everything is about you.” She yelled angrily, and he saw she was in a panic now. “Call them off.”

He lit his cigar and relaxed back in his chair, looking at her, looking at the woman he would marry anyhow before the year was over. “Speak nicely.” 

“Please. Call them off. I will give you my reasons.” 

“Give them now.” He filled his glass up, walked up to her and shoved it in her hand. “Drink up, you look pale.” He gently caressed her hair away from her face.

“If that woman dies now, we would lose that fifteen percent forever. She is still Sullivan’s wife and all her assets would rightfully go to him.”

Draco shook his head, walking away. All these Japanese names and culture tired him out. 

This endless fight for share, hierarchy, family. He really did not understand it. 

They could always build a racket from scratch and make as much money with less work.

“Are you even listening to me?” She was shaking so much now, and when he turned back to her after taking a seat again, he saw the tear duct in her eyes. 

He picked his phone up and sent a voice note and told them to stop the machine.

“Leave the car up there, they can find their way out.” He added on second thought. 

If he had exerted so much energy to get them, and now he was not killing them anymore, the least they could do was find their own way out. 

If they fell to their deaths from high up there, there was nothing he could do about that.

“They?” Ophelia said, finally walking up to him, looking much calmer now. “Was Sullivan with her?” 

“Now you come to me,” he said with mock anger, and yanked her on to his lap. “I can’t tell you Asians apart. I don’t know if that was Sullivan or Tucker.”

“You racist bastard.” She cursed in his face, and he smacked her bum way too hard, smiling up at her.

“That hurts.”

“I meant it to.”

She tried to get off him, but he pulled her back down to his lap. “Tell me why I had to let that pretty wh*re go.”

“I told you already.” She said, and then paused. “If she is so pretty, why don’t you go be with her?”

“So this woman is your rival, but you don’t want her to die.” He placed his hand on her knee, and began to travel up her thigh.

“Draco.” She grumbled, but she did not push his hand off. Instead, she leaned more into him. “That woman is worth more alive to me than dead, for at least the next few days.

“Why is she suddenly much more valuable than she was twenty-four hours ago?” his lips were on her collarbone as he spoke, and then her flesh was between his lips.

“It’s obvious you are not even listening." Her voice came out angry but wavered in the end. “Do I have to keep saying the same thing?”

“You would have come here in a different dress if you cared about my concentration.” His lips traveled down to the line of her exposed cleavage. 

She inhaled now, and he felt her fingers in his hair as she attempted to keep speaking. “She is my husband’s wh*re and has a son with him. It’s a long story that I do not care to go into.”

“Everyone who saw the video two years ago knows your husband knocked her up.” Draco raised his face finally to meet her eyes. “And everyone who was in the country two years ago saw that video.”

She was staring at him now with those lovely blue eyes, and pained him to see the sadness there. 

“Why the hell are you clinging to him? What do you need him for?”

She rolled her eyes and looked away sadly, “You don’t understand commitement, Draco.”

“How can you even say that? I watched you get married and have a baby and waited the whole time for you.” He was watching this woman, trying not to get angry at that statement. 

“So you love me?” She turned back to him, and cocked her head with a smile.

He sighed, unable to meet her eyes. “I don’t know. I want to give you the world, I want to go to war for you and I hate to see you sad or cry if I am not the one who caused it.’

She laughed at this and caressed his face.

“I want to take you back to Sicily and pump your belly full of babies.” 

She smirked and looked away. “You don’t know what a terrible mother I can be.”

“I will hire all the nannies you need, and you never even have to look at the brats if you don’t want to. I want to make you happy but brand my name here.” He slid his hand down between her boobs and he saw her inhale.

“Is that what you people call love? Do all these things qualify as love?” he asked.

She smiled, shaking her head, “Why are you not a poet? They said you Italian men are so romantic, but I never believed it because Draco is an Italian, and he is not romantic.”

“Is that what you want? Marry me, and I’ll make sure you wake up to poems every day.” 

She laughed at this and tried to get up, but after knowing her for so long, he had anticipated that move and his hand was pinning her waist to himself.

This would not be the first time he had asked her to marry him. 

He had done so before she ran off with her aristocratic simp, but she seemed to think he was joking every time.