Vain (The Seven Deadly 1)

He glanced up. “I had to. It’s her favorite place and I need her to be receptive tonight.”

I gazed from one brother to the other. “And what is Aubergine’s?” I asked.

“Aubergine’s is my mother’s favorite restaurant,” Ian explained. “The rest of us hate it. They serve ungodly things like trio of quail or abalone with spiced cauliflower mouse. Essentially, disgusting food.”

“Ah, I see,” I answered.

“We only go there when we really need mom to see our side of things.”

“Oh, now I’m dying to know.”

“You wait like the rest of them,” Simon told me. He looked at me like he’d only just really noticed me. “Wait a second. You’re a girl.”

“Astute, this one,” I told Ian, gesturing toward Simon.

“No, no. I mean, I knew you were a girl. You’d be hard-pressed not to notice with a figure like that,” he said and I rolled my eyes, “but that’s not what I meant.”

“Careful, Simon,” Ian gritted.

“You’re the first girl Ian’s ever brought here.”

“Surely not,” I balked Ian’s direction.

“No, you are the very first. Once, in high school he had a party and naturally girls came but he has never brought a singular girl here...ever. This-this is good. You’ll take some of the heat off me.”

Ian ran a hand down his face and blew out a breath. “Simon, must you always humiliate me?”

“I am sorry, little brother,” he said, standing and hooking his arm around Ian’s neck.

Ian shook him off but smiled. It was the first time I’d ever seen Ian really vulnerable, almost child-like, and I liked it. I supposed Masego was a “forced to act mature” kind of place. I was glad to see him young, to see that creased brow relax, even if it was just for a small amount of time. Ian so obviously carried around Masego’s worries on his strong twenty-year-old shoulders and they were more than capable of handling the weight, but everyone needs a break now and then.

Just then the front door handle began to turn and we all faced the door. I couldn't help but notice Simon and Ian exchange a glance before it opened, but I couldn’t fully read it. All I caught was anxiety, but there was a very good chance that was all me.

I was so overwhelmed in that moment. I wanted to run and jump off the balcony and sink into that abyss then. Anything sounded better to me than meeting Ian’s parents. I didn’t know how much they knew of me, or what to expect of them. I wanted to kick myself for not preparing as my father had taught me to do.

“Always be aware, Sophie. Never let anyone take you by surprise,” he would say.

I shook the thoughts away.

Ian came next to me and wrapped his hand in mine. “No worries, Soph,” he whispered in my ear, soothing me almost immediately.

The door opened and two imposing figures emerged, talking shop, it seemed.

“No, Henrik,” the woman, who could only be Ian’s mother, said.

She was tall, very. Dark black hair and fair skin just like Ian’s. Her hair was stylishly short and met just below her ears. She was lean and striking and unbelievably intimidating. She was exquisite and I could see where Ian had learned “imposing” from. She invented it with the way she carried herself.

She’d stopped talking and stood staring at us. She’d mastered an expressionless face and she was wearing it then. It was no matter to me, because in that moment I remembered my breeding and immediately exuded my own brand of imposition.

The invisible projection hit her like the atom bomb and you could tell she was taken aback.

She and Ian’s dad, Henrik, laid their bags down on the rich, brown velveteen sofa sectional before approaching.

“Simon,” her velvety voice purred. “What have I told you about rolling up the sleeves of your dress shirts. You’ll crease. You’ll have to change before dinner tonight.”

“I’ll do no such thing,” Simon said, smiling at her, “but I’ve made reservations at Aubergine’s, so I figure you’ll forgive me?” He oozed charm and I could suddenly see why all the girls gravitated toward him.

“Fine,” she said, a tight knowing smile gracing her lips.