Kill Or Be Killed

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Scale Number: 1/Slight 3 (After confession of love)

As instructed, Cat kept her hand in his and stayed right on his heel, tucked behind him ever so slightly as they entered the lounge. The Three Notlimahs were each seated there waiting for the two of them.

Elenor was sitting beside her daughter on a loveseat, who was busy being scolded by her father on the couch beside them. "While you're living under my roof, you'll do what I tell you." He only noticed their entrance when the other two looked up first, making the slightly overweight man get to his feet, stretching his arms out wide in front of him. "There you are, both of you. Come, I saved you a seat next to me," he lowered himself back down, patting the cushion next to him when he realized they weren't going to walk over immediately.

Kal nodded his head once as a polite gesture, for what she had to guess was strictly for the benefit of the women. "I have been sitting for a while, so I would rather stand," as he said this, he led her into the room and as far from their host as he could before lowering her into an empty chair. Then taking his place behind her, his hands perched on the top of the high back on either side of her head.

As well of an actor as he was pretending to be, it was impossible for him to hide the clear disdain at the rejection of his seat invitation. Opening his mouth to make some kind of rude comment, but his daughter cleared her throat, cutting off any fit he might have been about to pitch. Which earned him a small smile from his offspring, who didn't bother hiding the look of amusement on her face.

"Alright," Elenor tried to break the silence with a fake smile. "Bruno," she called out. Without another moment's wait it summoned a man wearing a white servant outfit who brought in a tray filled with a ceramic pot and four saucers with matching teacups. She furrowed two perfectly plucked brows, "Bruno, you're missing a cup." She pointed out with a disappointed concussed look.

But her husband was there to supply an answer, "Oh, that was my fault." His narrowed gaze fell on Cat, "I assumed the reason you were here was because of your condition, and that you would want to rest after your long trip. Didn't think you would be joining us for this quaint little gathering."

Looking up to the man dressed in white, "Bring in another cup, will you?" The way he asked for another dish was off, but the butler walked away without a word, shuffling his way out of the room.

Kalayavan's hand moved to her shoulder, tensing there, warning her not to take the bait the man was so clearly dangling in the air. But her smart mouth couldn't stop from opening anyway, "What condition is that?" Her tone stayed even and cool, but it was obvious to her mover she was on the offense.

The man of the house clicked his tongue against his teeth as his wife reached for the pot and began pouring liquid into the cups that were present. "Well, when Kal told me he was bringing a friend, I knew it had to be the lady kind, and why else would someone like him need to hide a woman?" Pausing he reached for one of the small handles, not bothering to offer his guest any first, bringing it to his lips. Once it clinked back down to the matching saucer, he continued, "There's only one reason," his eyes flicker down to Cat's flat belly, before snapping back to her eyes with a menacing glean, "You've developed a problem."

It was clear what kind of implication he was making; he thought Cat was knocked up.

In that second, she didn't care about the rules her stalker had laid down for her, or that his hand was on her. She tried to shoot up to her feet, only to be kept seated by his grip. "Problem?" Cat wasn't even sure why she was so offended by the insult against their imaginary child.

Not that he seemed to care, or even notice that he'd said anything wrong. "If you've come here to get rid of it, that shouldn't be an issue."

"Christopher!" Elenor couldn't hide the surprise, either at her husband's audacity or his outrageous conclusion.