"Patience, Matteo," his father said, his eyes colder than flintstones as he gazed at his eldest son. "Have you taken leave of all of your manners? Take your seat next to Emmeline. She has specially dressed up for this dinner."
Matteo didn't move an inch. "I came as you asked. It's time for you to hold up your end of the bargain."
Charles Montgomery proceeded to ignore Matteo's heated words and his icy glare. Instead, he decided to dig into his own meal with deliberate casualness, taking tiny sips of the soup entrée that the staff had so helpfully served.
"Eat," Charles said. "The food is going to get cold otherwise." He then gestured to the staff and instructed, "If he's so insistent on sitting there, then bring the food to him."
