Lena’s eyebrows shot up as she glanced between them, her lips parting as if she wanted to say something, but she ultimately held her tongue.
Dustin, unable to resist the urge to tease, grinned like a fool. “Ha, did Ms. Moore get all worked up seeing Mr. Harris?”
Whitney’s fingers tightened around the glass, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson as she froze, too mortified to meet anyone’s gaze.
Lena, quick to jump to her friend’s defense, interjected, “Dustin, why don’t you consider that our Whit got scared seeing you instead?”
Dustin perked up, feigning offense. “Hey, Sweetheart, what’s so scary about me?”
Klein took a leisurely sip of water, his expression flat as he replied, “Probably your ugly face.”
Dustin stared at him, disbelief etched across his features. ‘So, this is what it looks like when a guy forgets his friends the second he sees a pretty face,’ he thought, shaking his head in amusement.
Lena erupted into laughter, her joy spilling out uncontrollably, a bright sound that filled the air around them.
“See, Dustin? Now you truly understand what Uncle Klein is really like,” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
Dustin’s expression darkened, and she could see the tension in his jaw as he clenched his teeth, the sound of grinding echoing faintly in the space between them. “Sweetheart, you seem to be forgetting who’s footing the bill for this meal,” he replied, his voice low and edged with irritation.
In an instant, Lena mimed zipping her lips shut, a playful gesture that made her giggle even more.
She recognized when it was time to back off, but her curiosity was piqued. A quick glance revealed Klein’s unwavering gaze fixed on Whitney, who sat across the table.
Turning her attention to her friend, Lena noticed Whitney’s head was bowed, her focus locked on her cup as if willing it to melt away.
“Whit, come on, snap out of it! You need to eat more and don’t be shy with him. He’s loaded anyway,” Lena encouraged, her grin wide and infectious.
Klein’s demeanor was relaxed, his body language casual, yet an undeniable presence loomed over the table that made the atmosphere thick with tension. It was a quiet pressure that felt almost tangible, a weight that refused to be dismissed.
The table itself was narrow, and each time someone reached for a dish, fingertips brushed against one another, a fleeting connection that sent Whitney’s nerves spiraling.
Among the four of them, Dustin clearly had a long-standing relationship with Klein, and it was evident he was aware of the unspoken dynamics between Klein and Whitney.
But Lena remained blissfully unaware.
Whitney felt a pang of guilt for keeping her secret from Lena, coupled with a gnawing fear that her friend might somehow uncover the truth.
*This entire meal feels like a nightmare,* she thought, her stomach twisting in knots. She could hardly taste the food on her plate.
As the meal progressed, Lena casually asked, “Hey Whit, are you free this weekend? We should head to Chillin Village for a couple of days.”
Normally, Whitney would have jumped at the chance, her heart eager for a getaway, but this weekend was already booked solid with commitments.
She looked up, attempting to maintain an air of nonchalance, her gaze colliding with Klein’s. He was watching her intently, a hint of a smile dancing on his lips, and he didn’t look away.
Feeling her cheeks heat up, she quickly averted her gaze and cleared her throat. “Lena, I actually have something going on this weekend. I can’t make it.”
“What about next weekend then?” Lena pressed, her enthusiasm undeterred.
Whitney’s spirits dimmed further. “Next week, I’ll be at the memorial service for my grandmother. Sorry.”
“Oh, it’s fine! I’m so sorry, babe. I should’ve thought about that,” Lena said, her expression shifting to one of concern as she pulled Whitney into a comforting hug.
When she released her, Whitney noticed Klein’s brows were slightly knitted together, an expression that seemed out of place.
*Why does Uncle Klein suddenly look annoyed?* Lena pondered, a hint of confusion flickering across her face.
Turning her attention back to Dustin, she offered a half-hearted thanks. “Thanks for today, Dustin. Anyway, I’ve had a couple of drinks. Did you guys drive here?”
Dustin shook his head, looking at her with a hint of amusement. “Nope, didn’t drive. I’m waiting for my family’s driver.”
Lena waved her hand dismissively. “No worries, Whit and I will just grab a cab.”
Out of nowhere, Klein’s voice broke through the chatter, lazy yet commanding, “I didn’t drink. I’ll drive you home.”
Dustin blinked, momentarily taken aback. “You didn’t drink? Then who the hell was clinking glasses with me just now? Mr. Harris, no offense, but I don’t care how rich and powerful you are-ignoring traffic laws is still a no-go.”
“I was drinking water,” Klein interjected smoothly, a hint of amusement in his tone. “My glass has contained water this entire time. You simply assumed I was indulging in alcohol.”
Dustin fell silent for a moment, then burst out laughing, a mocking edge to his tone. “You clinked glasses with me using water? That’s real classy of you.”
Klein slowly turned his gaze to Dustin, his expression unreadable. “But you were having a great time drinking with me, weren’t you?”
*Oh, wonderful,* Dustin thought, rolling his eyes. *Klein’s really something else.*
Eventually, the two of them settled into Klein’s car, while Dustin remained behind, waiting for his driver.
Klein’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of the two women in the back seat.
“Luna, I’ll drop you off at Harris Manor first, then take Whitney home,” he stated matter-of-factly.
Lena didn’t think much of it, responding with a casual, “Okay, Uncle Klein.”
Whitney, however, had a different thought. She wished he would just drop her at the subway station instead. Regret washed over her for having sent her car in for maintenance that day.
Once Lena exited the vehicle, it left just the two of them inside the car, a sudden intimacy that felt both thrilling and unnerving.
Whitney noticed Klein had pulled over to the side of the road and turned on the hazard lights, causing a flicker of confusion to cross her mind. Then, his cool voice shattered the silence, “My dear girlfriend, come sit up front.”
His tone brooked no argument, and Whitney felt her heart race as she reluctantly unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed into the front seat.
If they lingered at the entrance to Harris Manor with the hazard lights flashing, anyone from the family returning home would spot them instantly.
As Whitney’s subtle fragrance wafted into the air, Klein’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles, and he pressed down on the gas pedal, pulling away smoothly.
Deliberately, Whitney turned her gaze to the window, watching the street scenes blur into a kaleidoscope of colors as they drove.
Klein’s voice broke the comfortable silence, casual yet probing. “Are you going to the memorial service next Saturday? Can I come?”
Whitney shook her head, her voice steady. “I’m not going to the cemetery. We’re holding it at Moore Manor. Usually, it’s the daughters or granddaughters who cook, and we have the memorial at home.”
According to the family’s schedule, she wouldn’t be making the trip up the mountain for the memorial visit until the following week.
Of course, she felt no need to elaborate on those details for Klein’s benefit.
“Klein, I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to go get the marriage license with you until next week,” she said, her tone apologetic.
Klein’s expression darkened slightly, a shadow crossing his features. “Why are you apologizing?”
The distance in his voice sent a shiver down her spine, a reminder of the growing chasm between them.
They were on the brink of marriage, yet it felt as though they were two strangers meeting for the first time, each unsure of the other’s intentions.
Whitney hesitated, searching for the right words. “I thought you might be in a hurry.”
Klein let out a low chuckle, the sound rich and deep.
Whitney felt a wave of discomfort wash over her. “What’s so funny?”
“Whit, do I really seem that impatient to you?” he asked, his brow arched in amusement.
Realizing too late that she had misstepped, Whitney quickly tried to clarify. “No, that’s not what I meant, Klein. I just thought your dad might be pressuring you since you’re getting older.”
They had secured their marriage license primarily to deal with James anyway.
As soon as the words left her lips, Klein’s smile vanished, replaced by a cold expression. *So she thinks I’m old?* he thought, irritation creeping into his mind.
Whitney watched his smile fade and hurried to explain herself. “I’m not saying you’re old! I just meant that at thirty-three, your family might be nudging you to settle down.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.