Chapter 2: The Favor
Nathaniel had only just begun to unpack his things when Sophia's voice pierced through the silence, cutting through his thoughts.
"So, what exactly are you supposed to do here?" she asked, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "You're not my teacher, right?"
Nathaniel looked over from his suitcase, eyes narrowing slightly. "I'm here to help. Madam Lancaster asked me to stay for a few weeks and teach you some basic skills around the house. You know, things like cooking and cleaning."
Sophia's laugh was high-pitched and obnoxious. "Cooking? Cleaning? You really think I'm going to spend my time doing that? My mom has always had people for that. I've never had to do a thing in my life."
Nathaniel felt a flash of frustration. He knew this wasn't going to be easy, but he hadn't anticipated her being so dismissive about it. "Look, Sophia," he began, walking toward her with a calm but firm demeanor. "I'm not here to debate with you. Your mother's asked me to help, and I'm going to make sure you can at least take care of yourself while they're gone. You're seventeen, and it's time you learned some responsibility."
Sophia tilted her head and gave him a sweet, fake smile. "How cute. You think you can change me, huh?"
Nathaniel clenched his jaw. He wasn't one to back down, but there was something about Sophia's smirk that made his resolve waver just a bit. He'd spent most of his life dealing with people who thought they could manipulate him with their money or influence, but this girl—this spoiled heiress—seemed different. She wasn't just rich; she was spoiled and stubborn, the kind of person who expected the world to bend to her whims.
"If that's what you think, then so be it," he said, meeting her gaze directly. "But for the next three weeks, I'm in charge of what happens in this house. If you're going to keep living here under your mother's roof, you'll do as I say."
Sophia raised an eyebrow but didn't respond, simply turning away and walking toward the door.
"Don't think this means you get to boss me around. I'm still the one with the power in this house," she said coolly, almost as if she were reminding herself as much as him.
Nathaniel had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. This was going to be harder than he thought.
---
Later that evening, Nathaniel found himself sitting in the kitchen, a recipe book opened in front of him. He was trying to put together a simple dinner—nothing too complicated, just a basic pasta with garlic and olive oil. But with Sophia out of sight, he couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of responsibility for her, even if she didn't appreciate it. He had been given a task, and he intended to carry it out.
He didn't have much experience teaching or dealing with people like Sophia, but he wasn't a fool. He knew that discipline and structure were essential if he was going to help her at all. And despite her resistance, he had a feeling that deep down, Sophia needed guidance.
A sudden sound broke him from his thoughts, and he looked over to see Sophia standing in the doorway of the kitchen, arms crossed.
"What's that smell?" she asked, wrinkling her nose in feigned distaste.
Nathaniel couldn't help but grin at the question. It was a simple meal, but it was the first time he'd ever cooked in this house. He had learned to cook out of necessity when he was younger, but his skills had only improved over time.
"It's pasta with garlic and olive oil," he replied. "Nothing fancy."
Sophia rolled her eyes dramatically. "That's it? You're really going to feed me this?"
Nathaniel sighed. "Well, it's what I can make right now. The idea is to start with the basics."
"Yeah, well, I can't cook at all," she said, lowering her arms. "Mom never bothered to teach me anything. I don't need to cook. That's what chefs and housekeepers are for."
Nathaniel's grin faded. "Not everyone has a team of chefs or housekeepers to rely on. And eventually, you'll have to be able to take care of yourself. You don't always have people to do things for you."
Sophia didn't respond immediately, but her eyes flickered down to the food on the stove. She looked like she wanted to say something but held herself back.
Nathaniel watched her for a moment, then returned to his cooking. "I'll start by showing you how to make a simple meal. It's not complicated."
Sophia remained silent, but her presence lingered in the room as Nathaniel chopped garlic, warmed the oil in a pan, and boiled the pasta. He found it oddly comforting, the way she stood there, watching, even if she didn't say anything.
"Okay, chef, what do I do?" she asked sarcastically, breaking the silence.
Nathaniel looked up at her. "Grab the pasta and drop it into the water. It'll only take a couple of minutes."
Sophia hesitated, eyeing the boiling pot. "What if I burn myself?"
"You won't," Nathaniel said, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. "Just drop it in slowly."
She finally complied, cautiously lowering the pasta into the boiling water. Nathaniel watched her, keeping an eye on the process as she followed his instructions. It wasn't graceful, but it was a start.
"Not bad," Nathaniel commented. "Now, we wait for it to cook."
Sophia crossed her arms again, an expression of boredom settling on her face. "So, is this your idea of a fun evening? Cooking pasta with a spoiled brat?"
Nathaniel paused. "It's not about fun. It's about learning. You're going to need to know how to do this, even if you don't think so now."
Sophia huffed but didn't respond. The silence stretched on as the pasta cooked, and Nathaniel realized something—there was more to this girl than he had first thought. Her resistance to everything wasn't just out of entitlement; it was a defense mechanism. She wasn't used to failure, to being challenged.
Her life had been one of ease, luxury, and indulgence, and now, for the first time, someone was pushing her to face something real.
---
After dinner, Nathaniel cleaned the dishes, with Sophia reluctantly helping. It wasn't much, just a few plates and utensils, but the act of sharing the responsibility felt strangely significant.
"That wasn't awful," Sophia admitted, her arms crossed as she dried a plate. "But don't get used to me doing this."
Nathaniel chuckled. "You're not off the hook yet. We've got a lot more work ahead of us."
Sophia glared at him, but there was something different in her expression—a flicker of something softer, less hostile.
"Yeah, yeah. But I'm not doing this forever," she muttered.
Nathaniel nodded, secretly pleased. He had a long way to go, but maybe, just maybe, Sophia was starting to change.
---
End of Chapter 2