Nice or Not

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"If you don't attend dinner then you don't eat," Lucius threatened.

I lounged on my bedroom couch in my silk pajamas, curled up in a blanket.

Seemed like someone was getting parental advice from Beauty and the Beast.

I starred at him blankly, lifting a brow as if to say "is that all?"

"And every dinner you don't attend will be another day added," he amended.

I'd have to admit he was getting better at incentives.

"Won't I have just starved to death by then?" I mumbled.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," I said unfurling myself to get up, then gestured to the hallway, adding with a bitter tone, "Lead the way."

He looked me up and down, from my bare feet to my midriff to my disheveled hair.

"You're attire isn't appropriate for dinner," he emphasized with impatience.

"You bought this for me."

"Yes to sleep in."

I huffed in annoyance and went into the closet, throwing on an oversized knitted jumper.

"Better?" I asked walked out knowing damn well I looked sloppy.

His expression was cold.

The way he acted you'd think the queen was coming to dine with us for every meal.

"I expect you to be changed and downstairs in under 10 minutes," he said with no room for argument.

Then he left, shutting the door behind him.

I threw an offensive gesture at the man on the other side of it.

...

I walked into the dining room and three sets of eyes looked at me with a mix of confusion and shock.

I entered in a gown that was completely too extravagant and poofy—one might think I was attending the most lavish gala in Britain.

It had been one of the many gowns made for me that hung mostly untouched and perfectly pressed. I'd only worn one when Madame demanded it so I could learn how to ballroom dance in big skirts. It went as well as you'd assume. Madame cursed me in French as I accidentally stepped on her foot.

The one I wore was the most outrageous dress I'd ever worn. I felt like I was walking covered in layers and layers of blankets. It was extremely uncomfortable but well worth the sacrifice.

I knew I was being petty.

But technically he had just told me to change without any parameters whatsoever—just that my pjs weren't appropriate.

Lucius had stopped eating and his face dropped. The way he was staring was like the look of me made him physically sick.

I sat down very pleased with myself.

Otto went back to eating with a roll of his eyes, pointedly ignoring me so as not having to engage.

Draco started, "What are you—"

I flashed Draco a sour expression that let him know we still weren't on good terms. He lifted his brows at me and scowled.

I scooted in my chair—with some difficult due to the nature of my skirts—and the legs loudly dragged on the wood.

I'm sure it grated on Lucius's nerves.

I picked up my fork and looked over to him. He was staring at me like I'd decided to come to dinner in the nude.

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