Chapter 2 - Dinner with the Lorenzos

The Lorenzos sat, basking in the grandeur of the Rivas estate, yet its splendor was still nothing compared to the Lorenzo empire.

Mrs. Lorenzo sat at the right side of the long table, dressed in a light blue silk gown with pearl earrings, her hair pulled into a neat bun. It was simple for such a grand evening. Too simple. Had she worn it because she thought little of them, or because she already considered them family?

Aveline had never been given the chance to share something as ordinary as a conversation with her soon-to-be mother-in-law. Mrs. Lorenzo’s expression was hard to engage. Was she inspecting? Suspecting? Was she unimpressed or impressed? Maybe it was a billionaire thing. Trust wasn’t offered, it was earned. They didn’t reach their heights by flashing smiles at everyone who came close. Xavier was just like her.

Xavier. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. What was she doing? He kept glancing at his watch, as though this dinner were a waste of his time. Uninterested or simply waiting for something better?

He sat tall, his tanned skin glistening beneath the glow of the golden lights. His hair was dark and lustrous, his clothes plain: a black shirt, black trousers, a watch dangling carelessly at his wrist. Another display of simplicity. She must have looked ridiculous beside them.

Aveline’s usual arrogance wavered. Among millionaires, she was a force to be reckoned with, distinguished in politics, economics, history, and every marker of excellence. That was her ground, her pride. But here, among billionaires, she was nothing. She had no place.

“You have great taste, Mr Rivas.” She dug into the fine, juicy steak.

“Taste. Ah. I'm flattered. Compared to your estate, I must have done quite a lot to catch your eye.”

Denzo lied. Aveline him a looked of disbelief. Her mother was responsible for the estate's design.

Mrs Lorenzo looked over to the empty seat beside Denzo. “Is there someone we're waiting for, Mr Rivas?"

“I don't understand what you mean by that?” He pursed his lips, sealing the tension.

“Your wife, Mrs Rivas”

“You mean Freya?” Denzo asked.

“Yes, Mrs Rivas.” She emphasized. “It's a special occasion for Aveline.”

“Freya and I aren't married anymore.” He smiled convincingly, steady and slow.

“Oh. I'm sorry, Mr Rivas.” She paused. “It's still an important night for darling Aveline.”

“Freya has important engagements with certain agencies. She's a busy woman.”

Aveline's eyes twitched at his lies. It was the second one that night. No one knew what Freya was up to.

“More important than this?” She sipped from her wine glass.

“Freya is rather unusual. She doesn't mean to disrespect the Lorenzos, I assure you, "he added.

“It's okay. Our Theo isn't here either.” Mrs smiled frantically.

Aveline's gaze shot up, puzzled.

“Our eldest son is still bed-ridden for years. A mother may find it hard to process such grief, even while alive." Her smile dropped.

Aveline lowered her gaze. She never knew anything about Theo, even when she visited the estate years back. It was depressing but it was also clear the importance of keeping his identity hidden to protect the family's image, but not hidden enough from her father. The late Mr must have trusted her father so much.

“My heart goes out to him. He was a sweet boy.”

“And you?” Mrs Lorenzo's voice cut through her thoughts. “You're rather quiet this evening.”

Denzo shot a glare at her. “She's not exactly the chatty type of person.”

“i’m sure Aveline can speak for herself." She forced a smile at him.

“Forgive my silence. I beg that you do not mistake it for arrogance.” Aveline smiled, tucking the loose strands of her curls behind her ears, nervously.

“Arrogance is a good quality. Silence is a powerful tool. But at the dinner table it's useless now.” She chuckled. “You have nothing to worry about. I have my facts checked. Xander spoke highly of you, sadly before his passing.”

Memories of Late Mr Lorenzo was a distant one. Just before she left for Paris to further her education, she visited the Lorenzo's very often. Mr Lorenzo would puzzle her with questions. At thirteen, she had no idea she was being bred to be sold into such a life.

“You must be smart.” She held her fork in mid air. “Smart enough for my son of course.”

Aveline held her breath, Mrs Lorenzos gaze piercing with scrutiny.