11 The dinner and the Don - III

At the fifth dinner Galla that she was attending, Joyce had given up every hope that Adrian Murphy was even going to look her way.

By now, she had decided that if he came in front of her, she was going to snap his neck and kill him on the spot.

Almost every time she had a free lecture or an early day, her father would call her home early and she would miss spending time with George.

It was obvious that George did not appreciate the growing distance in between them. University was hard, they could not skip classes and because she had to leave early, they could hardly spend any time together.

So now, in a silk Green emerald dress, she was watching Adrian Murphy from the corner of her eyes while sipping some champagne that her father had finally allowed her to drink.

However, she made sure to drink non-alcoholic cocktails more than she did champagne. So champagne was only limited to one glass.

However, the cocktails were really starting to settle down and now she has to go pee.

"Declan," she tapped on her brother's arm, "I will see you in a bit?"

He nodded, understanding that she wanted to lose the toilet but had framed her words carefully in front of the company they were in.

All of these places were awfully familiar in structure. Meaning, it was not difficult to navigate where she was supposed to find the washrooms.

After releasing herself and washing her hands, she lazily patted her hands dry with a napkin before throwing it into the bin.

Fixing her appearance a little and touching upon her lipstick, Joyce finally decided that it was time to leave. In case your father noticed her absence for a long time, she would definitely get it.

Holding the door knob, she pulled the door open and turned back to make sure that she closed it shut right. The moment she stepped back to turn around and walk towards the ballroom, she bumped into someone.

"Shit," she whispered when her dress got caught underneath her heel and she was about to lose her balance.

The ceiling of her face planting against the ground never came and that was when Joyce realised that someone was holding her up. Because the feeling of arms around her waist was unmistakable.

"Careful, Miss O'Sullivan," she heard, making her open her eyes and look straight into the bluest eyes she had ever seen. "You never turn your back when entering a new room."

Adrian Murphy was definitely more beautiful up close than he was at the other end of the whole. Maybe, the side eye glances were not doing him Justice.

"You," she growled out and pushed her hands against his chest before separating from him. "I fucking hate you!" She breathed out the words, slowly and steadily, into his face.

And to teach him a lesson, she used something she always kept in her bag for no apparent reason. Reaching over into her clutch, she bit into the garlic before closing the distance between them.

Her garlic smelling breath hit him right in the face, making his face twitch and break posture.

"You," he turned his head away to breathe away from her garlic scented bread, only for her to open her mouth and blow into his direction. "Fucking brat. Did your parents teach you nothing?"

"Pedophile!" She accused him. "Did your parents teach you to marry little girls?"

Adrian scoffed. "It's your father who is trying to marry you off. Take it up with him."

She tried to open her mouth, by the looks of it just blow her garlicky breath on him again. Adrian grabbed her jaw, squeezing her cheeks together, he made her shut her mouth.

"Listen to me carefully, Brat," he whispered, bringing his face closer to hers, "You better hope I don't say yes to this proposal of your father. Because if I do, I will be shipping your ass off to a behaviour correction facility as the first thing."

Ignoring the sneer on her lips, Adrian patted her cheek forcefully, just for fun, before turning around and leaving her alone in the corner.

"It's on," she vowed, "I'll fucking set you on fire."

He chuckled. "You can try sweetheart. If you think you are fire, then I can qualify as ice."

"Fire melts ice."

"Sure," he nodded, Appearing to be completely entranced with the discussion, "in the mind of a third grader."

Her cheeks caught fire. She was about to say something but lost her mouth just in time to think about it. She has to tell him yes or no. She has to tell him, or rather ask him, to end it all at once.

"I am going to make your life hell if I have to attend this party because of you." She pointed her finger at him. "So give my father an answer so that we don't have any opportunity to meet each other again."

"Is that a threat?" The amusement that had been quite visible in his eyes now washed away and they took a dangerous edge to it. The edge that she had seen in her father too many times.

Joyce should have stayed mute. But she did the exact opposite, she gave him a threat.

"Take it as whatever you want, but by tomorrow night my father should have an answer from you." Giving him a once over with her eyes, she walked past him and back into the ballroom with her head held high and her back straight but with quivering knees.