TPCF 87

CHAPTER 87………………………………

Finian picked up the candlestick from the table and used it to light his cigarette. As Lilliana leaned forward to light hers from the flame he offered, her gaze happened to meet Anita’s.

“Oh, right! Anita, are you feeling okay?”

Perhaps feeling guilty about smoking in front of someone who had fainted earlier, Lilliana hurriedly asked about her condition. Before Anita could even answer that she was fine, Finian spoke first.

“Feeling okay? What, did you suddenly turn frail without me knowing?”

Startled by how quickly he turned to her, Anita instinctively leaned away. She was afraid the cigarette, dangling precariously from his lips, might fall off at any second.

“Ah, sorry.”

Finian pulled back easily, offering an apology.

“It’s not that I’m sick…”

Anita trailed off. It didn’t feel like the kind of topic to bring up at the table. If Finian had the slightest tact or manners, he would’ve let it go…

“What? What’s wrong with you then?”

Apparently, he had neither tact nor manners. Anita, not wanting to answer, stabbed her fork repeatedly into the poor veal steak. She always hated being the subject of conversation.

“She fainted on the way here in the car earlier.”

“Fainted? Did you suddenly get carsick or something? You were fine back then…”

“……”

“Oh. Don’t tell me it’s because of that incident?”

Finian snapped his fingers as if he’d figured it out. Lilliana, still holding her cigarette between her lips, unable to puff or exhale, perked up at the mention.

“What incident?”

“Nothing, it’s no—”

“Ah, our car crashed once. We ended up in a lake, but luckily survived.”

Thud.

The knife in Anita’s hand stabbed down hard into the steak.

This was why she hadn’t wanted to talk about it. Finian brushed it off like nothing, even joked about it, while she didn’t want to admit it had left her with a trauma so deep it still haunted her.

“Ah… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked something like that…”

Lilliana gave her a sympathetic look, which only made Anita’s chest tighten unpleasantly.

“Are you pitying me right now?”

“And what’s so wrong with that?”

He wasn’t wrong. Being pitied wasn’t exactly pleasant.

“Want to try a drag?”

“…That’s unsanitary.”

When Finian casually offered the cigarette from his own lips, Anita recoiled in disgust.

“Just let it go. Yeah, the accident happened. So what? It’s in the past. We’re both still alive and well.”

Easy for him to say. Sarcasm burned at the back of Anita’s throat.

“Think of it this way. Live a dull, uneventful life and you’ll just end up a terribly boring person. At least that’s not something we’ll ever have to worry about.”

Was living a quiet, uneventful life really so bad? That was exactly the kind of life Anita always longed for.

“Sure. Maybe you’re right.”

Anita set her knife down. The meat in her mouth suddenly felt dry. She grabbed her glass and took a drink.

“……”

It was alcohol, of course.

Anita wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and set the glass down again. Seeing her push it away, Finian smirked.

“What’s wrong? Don’t like the taste?”

It wasn’t the taste. It was the fact that she had sworn never to drink again. But she didn’t bother telling Finian. A notorious partygoer like him would never understand.

As dinner wound down, people began leaving their seats. Of course, leaving didn’t mean heading inside the villa.

“Well, look who it is. Nigel, isn’t it?”

A rather thin man approached Finian with an air of familiarity.

“Don’t bother acting so happy to see me. We just met yesterday. Unless… you’re more interested in the two ladies here?”

Finian’s mocking reply made the man’s smile falter. He scratched his cheek with his equally thin fingers.

“Oh dear, you’ve offended the host. That’s grounds for exile.”

Lilliana, clearly amused, chimed in with exaggerated dramatics, joining in on teasing him.

“I didn’t mean it like that…”

“Oh, Lily, don’t be so harsh. Having a crush isn’t a crime.”

Watching the poor man being picked on, Anita thought he looked pitiful. Just moments ago, Finian and Lilliana had been at each other’s throats, but now they had found someone weaker to chew on together.

Seeing him unable to either sit or leave, Anita tapped the seat beside her with her teaspoon.

“Have a seat, let’s talk.”

“Ah, yes. I should.”

The man carefully sat down beside her.

“Is that your type?”

Finian suddenly whispered in her ear, startling her so badly that she dropped her spoon. It flew off and smacked against the man’s thigh before clattering to the floor.