Passion's Crossfire

Chapter 83

Mallory

We all take our seats in the luxurious living room, and Mr. Christensen begins asking me questions. He asks about my family, my studies, my aspirations. The conversation flows, and I answer each question with as much poise as I can muster. Julian seems genuinely interested; his curiosity evident as he delves into the details of my life.

"It's fascinating that you want to be a doctor," Mr. Christensen remarks. "What inspired you to choose such a noble profession?"

I sense Mrs. Christensen's disapproval lurking beneath the surface. She stares at me with a judgmental gaze, her skepticism evident. "Yes, Mallory, what drove you to such a demanding field?" she asks, her tone laced with subtle disapproval.

"I've always wanted to help people. The idea of making a difference in someone's life, especially during their most vulnerable moments, inspired me to become a doctor."

Mrs. Christensen raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. Mr. Christensen, however, seems genuinely intrigued, nodding approvingly. The tension in the room is palpable as we navigate through the conversation, carefully treading on subjects that seem to displease Mrs. Christensen.

Eventually, James, the ever-polite butler, announces that dinner is served. We all rise from our seats, and I walk beside Adam as we head toward the dining room. Mr. Christensen takes his place at the head of the table, Mrs. Christensen settling across from Adam. I take a seat next to him, glancing around the opulent dining room.

The table is adorned with fine china, crystal glasses, and silverware that probably costs more than my entire college tuition. I feel a bit out of place, but Adam's reassuring smile encourages me to soldier on.

Throughout dinner, conversation continues, albeit with a subtle tension in the air. The atmosphere is a delicate balance between Mr. Christensen's genuine interest in getting to know me and Mrs. Christensen's thinly veiled disapproval. I find myself carefully choosing my words, trying to navigate the minefield of expectations.

As the evening progresses, I become increasingly aware of the scrutiny, and a sense of relief washes over me when dessert is served. Thankfully, Mrs. Christensen doesn't bombard me with too many questions during dinner. However, her disapproving looks could rival a firing squad, and if glares could kill, I'd be a casualty by now. I keep smiling, attempting to maintain composure, even though each judgmental stare tightens the knot in my stomach.

Mr. Christensen, on the other hand, is nothing but polite and welcoming. His genuine interest in getting to know me adds a touch of warmth to the evening. Why couldn't Mrs. Christensen be like that? This evening would have been a fucking delight, if only she was just a little bit like her husband.

Suddenly, Mrs. Christensen breaks the silence with a pointed question directed at Adam. "So, Adam, how did you meet Mallory?"

"We met at a party," Adam replies, maintaining his cool demeanor.

"A party? Well, how nice of you to take seriously a girl you met at a... party," Mrs. Christensen remarks, every word dripping with disdain. I swallow hard, exchanging glances with Adam, who remains composed.

"Ava, they are young. Where did you expect them to meet? At the opera?" Mr. Christensen interjects.

Mrs. Christensen raises an eyebrow, her disapproval evident. "Well, certain ladies frequent the opera. Have you ever been to the opera, Mallory?" she asks, a challenge in her eyes.

Before I can answer, Adam jumps in. "I don't like the opera, Mother, so it doesn't really matter."

Mrs. Christensen frowns, clearly displeased. After a momentary pause, she shifts her attention back to me. "So, how long have you two been... together?" She says the last word with a tone that suggests it disgusts her.

Adam answers without hesitation, "Three months, Mom."

Mrs. Christensen's eyes widen in shock. "Three months? Just three months?" Her tone carries a hint of disbelief, as if the duration of our relationship is somehow inadequate or unacceptable.

"Yeah, Mom, three months," Adam repeats, his tone surprisingly calm. I marvel at the way he handles the situation, a composed front that masks the potential storm brewing underneath. To be fair, he must have anticipated some this reaction; after all, he did just walk in with his girlfriend of three months and declared that things are getting serious. Bold move, to say the least.

"Adam, I don't know what kind of games you play, but I urge you to stop now," Mrs. Christensen says, her voice sharp with disapproval.

"Ava, if it's meant to be, three months is enough to know it," Mr. Christensen interjects, smiling warmly at both Adam and me.

"Are you kidding me, Julian? Meant to be, do you seriously believe that crap?" Mrs. Christensen stands up, her fury palpable. Well, shit just got real. I didn't expect a full-on raging outburst from Mrs. Christensen.

"If you think I'm going to sit by and watch you destroy your life, you are mistaken," she declares, directing her words at Adam. "Both of you are mistaken!" With that, she abruptly leaves the dining room, leaving an awkward silence in her wake.

"That went well," Mr. Christensen remarks, and Adam nods in agreement. I look at them both, utterly stunned. "You call that well?" I ask incredulously.

Mr. Christensen laughs, a hearty sound that contrasts with the tension that lingers in the air. "Oh, we expected her outburst much earlier in the evening."

Adam rubs my back, offering a comforting gesture. "You did well, Mallory. Seriously."

"Indeed, Mallory, you can relax now," Mr. Christensen adds, his smile genuine. I let out a breath, trying to let go of the lingering tension.

"Now what?" Adam asks his father, the strain evident in his voice. "Will you stay the night?" Mr. Christensen inquires.

Adam turns to me, and I meet his gaze. I shrug, not entirely sure of the right answer. "It's up to you," I reply honestly.

"You sure?" Adam asks, seeking confirmation. I nod, and he turns back to his father. "We'll stay the night and leave tomorrow after breakfast."

"Great. Mallory, sweetheart, you've been great tonight. Don't let her get you down. She'll see how wonderful you are. I certainly do," Mr. Christensen says, his words genuine and kind.

"Thank you so much," I reply, genuinely touched by his warmth. Such a gentleman. It's clear where Adam gets his charm and grace.

Mr. Christensen stands up with a polite "I'm going to bed. Good night" before leaving the room. The tension of the evening has left me drained, and I'm suddenly overcome with exhaustion. Adam gently takes my hand, whispering, "Come on," as he leads me through the expansive mansion. This place is like a maze; I'd undoubtedly get lost on my own.

Finally, we reach a door, and Adam opens it, gesturing for me to enter. As I step into the room, my eyes widen. It's enormous, large enough to be a small apartment. "Fuck, that's a huge room," I mumble, taking in the lavish surroundings.

"Yeah, it always felt cold and lonely in here. I prefer our bedroom," Adam confesses, his tone carrying a hint of vulnerability. He hugs me from behind, and I lean back against his solid chest. My fingers stroke his strong arms wrapped around my waist, and I say, "Yeah, me too."