Daphne held her breath as the car rolled to a stop in front of a restaurant. She was the one who picked out the restaurant, she was the one who booked the date. All Adrian had to do was pick her up, drive her there and have dinner with her, but he didn't even look happy to do that. She turned to him and asked, "Ready?"
Without sparing her a glance, he muttered, "Let's get this over with." He pushed the door open and climbed out, and because he could spot a couple of reporters by the roadside, he walked over to Daphne's side, opened her door and stretched out his hand for her to take it.
Daphne smiled. He may not mean it, but that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy the gesture. She delicately slipped her hand into his and let him pull her up. "Thanks," she muttered, looking away from him and giving a slight wave to the people who were not so discreetly taking pictures.
Adrian yanked her forward, pulling her in the direction of the restaurant.
"Easy," she snapped at him. The look he gave her made her shrink back. "You are not doing a very good job of making this look believable," she whispered.
"What are you talking about?" Adrian snapped, although, he looked like he would rather ignore her.
"For starters," she said, pulling her hand out of his hold and tucking her arm into his. "We should be holding each other like this. Next, wipe that glare off your face,'" she said. "And smile at me."
He glared at her at first. Then, his lips pulled up to a sickly sweet smile. "This okay?" he questioned in a sarcastic tone.
"Hmm... Now, do it like it's not your first day," she quipped and the smile wiped off his face.
He turned back in the direction of the restaurant, pulling her along. Behind them, two of his bodyguards walked slowly, a few distance away from them. As they approached the restaurant, Adrian pushed the door open and they walked in.
They were immediately approached by a lanky looking man dressed in a black trouser and white shirt tucked into it. "Good evening, sir and ma. How may I help you?" he questioned.
"We have a reservation under the name Adrian King," Adrian said in his deep, gruff tone.
The man glanced down at the papers in his hand, flipping through it with a small frown on his face. Then, he looked up, "Right, of course. Your table is the second one on the first floor," he said.
"Thanks," Daphne said as Adrian pulled her along impatiently. They walked into the elevator and Adrian punched in the buttons. As they waited, the silence became to uncomfortable for Daphne, so she blurted out, "Mummy thought it would be a great idea to get a private dinner. That's why I booked the one upstairs."
Adrian said nothing, his jaw ticking as he just started straight ahead.
"She said that even though we need the publicity, it will be good for us to get to know each other privately,". Daphne rambled on. "That's why I didn't book the one....."
"Do you do everything your mother says?" Adrian cut in, his voice full of disdain.
A frown appeared on Daphne's face. "I always ask for her advise."
"Or you always rely on her for what to do," he taunted.
Daphne glared at him. She wasn't liking the tone of his voice. How dare he talk to her like that? Here she was, doing almost everything so that he could like her and she was fastly running out of ideas, yet, he was so indifferent about her. "I don't think that's any of your business," she claimed. "Besides, you shouldn't be judging me. Aren't you doing all these because of your mother?"
Before Adrian could answer, the elevator stopped and opened. Daphne quickly got out and walked into the restaurant. Adrian followed hotly on her trail. "What do you mean by that?" he demanded.
Daphne rolled her eyes. "Quiet, we don't want to make a scene."
"What scene? We are literally the only ones here," he snapped, looking around. That wasn't completely true. There was another couple seated on the far end of the room.
Daphne took her seat at their table.
Once they were seated, a waiter approached them. "Good evening, sir, ma, I'll be your server for today," he said in a polite tone and wide grin. "What would you like to have?"
Daphne picked up the menu and glanced through it, blantantly ignoring Adrian. She glanced up at the waiter. "Let's start with a bottle of wine," she said to him and he nodded.
"Of course," he said and walked away.
Once he was out of earshot, Adrian asked again, "What do you mean?"
She sighed. "Look, you already said you don't like me, so, why else will you be here if not to pacify your mother?" she questioned.
There was still a frown on his face, and his jaw ticked but he said nothing at first. Finally, he said, "That's different."
"I really don't see how. You are scared of your mother and I like to pacify mine."
"I'm not scared of my mother. I came because according to my parents, this is important to the business," he snapped. "And if you are not aware, I take my business very seriously."
"So, you are using me?" she asked, sounding hurt.
"Aren't you also using me?"
"Right." Daphne let out a sigh of relief when the water approached them with the bottle of wine she asked for. "Let's drink to that," she muttered as the waiter popped the bottle open and poured a little into her glass. "More," she snapped at him and he jumped, muttering his apology under his breath. She waited for the glass to be almost filled up, then, she snapped again, "Stop."
The waiter hurriedly moved to Adrian and poured into the glass.
"That's okay," Adrian gruffly said once his glass was half filled.
The waiter straightened up, dropping the bottle on the table. "So, have you decided what you would like to have?" he questioned.
"How good is your steak?" Daphne asked.
"One of the best."
"We'll have that for now," she said.
"We?" Adrian questioned.
"Yes, we," she snapped.
Adrian kept quiet and watched as the water quickly scrambled off.
Daphne turned back to him. "Apparently, we are supposed to get to know each other," she said.
"That's not necessary."
Her eyes blazed. "I want to get to know you," she said bluntly.
"I don't want to know you," he answered just as bluntly.
"Why not? I thought I made it clear that I like you."
"And I thought I made it clear that I don't like you," he answered.
Daphne grabbed her glass and poured the content down her throat in one painful gulp. She slammed the glass down and poured more wine into it.
"I've asked this question before," he said, "but I'm going to ask again. Do you have a drinking problem?"
"No. Liquid courage," she answered.
"I wish you did," he mumbled. "Would have been easier for me.'
"How old are you?" she asked.
"Twenty eight."
"I'm twenty four," she said.
"I honestly don't care," he told her. He really didn't. How else could he make it clear that he didn't like her? Something about her ticked him off the wrong way and it just wasn't the fact that she was readily going along with their parents' insane plan to get them married to one another. It was something else.
It also didn't help that everytime he looked at Daphne, he thought of Georgina. However, the moment Daphne opened her mouth and her tiny voice flowed out, everything was ruined. He was suddenly and harshly reminded that this was Daphne, not Georgina.
Daphne ignored his rudeness. "Was your favorite food?" she asked.
"I don't have one."
"My favorite is pasta," she said.
"Again, don't care." Did she not believe him when he said he didn't care? How else could he prove it to her that he didn't care for her or whatever she liked? Was this all a joke to her?
"What did you study?" she asked him.
"Business management," he answered.
"Me too!"
Adrian's jaw ticked out how tinier her voice sounded when she was excited. There were so many things about this woman that annoyed him, and her voice was on his top five.
"How many women have you dated in the past?" she asked.
"I don't see how that's your business," he snapped, a murderous glare on his face.
She shrunk back into her seat. "Sorry," she muttered. She whispered a 'thank you' when the waiter returned with their orders.
"Here you go," he said, sliding their plates on the table.
"Thank you," she said out loud.
Adrian simply grunted, picking up his cutlery and digging into his food.
"I can tell you how many boyfriends I've had," Daphne offered once the waiter was gone.
Adrian dropped his fork and knife. "What I want," he snapped, "is for you to not talk at all for the rest of the night."
Daphne shut her mouth up.