𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐓𝐘 𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍? | challengers x reader

chapter twelve

GREENWICH, CONNECTICUT – JUNE 18, 2009. 07:00PM.

"Oh my God, you're really rich," you declared, gaping at the sight of Patrick's childhood home. The two of you were invited to a party his parents were having. Patrick's attendance was mandatory because they knew he had a break after you graduated.

Even though you were used to ritzy and unnecessarily large houses, having grown up in Scarsdale, Patrick's family estate was beyond what you were used to. As he led you up the walkway to the grand mansion he called home, you were overwhelmed by its imposing structure, made of elegant, pale limestone, and adorned with ivy-covered walls. It was surrounded by several acres of lush, meticulously manicured gardens, with perfectly trimmed hedges and majestic trees lining the cobblestone driveway. And that was just the exterior.

The interior was even more ornate, which you didn't think was possible considering the intricately carved wooden door you entered through. Your breath caught in your chest when your heels clicked on the decadent marble floors, eyes dancing around the house to admire the crystal chandeliers, expansive windows, and large paintings hung on the walls. Unimpressed by his usual surroundings, Patrick led you through the house towards the reception room as you gasped.

"Is that a real Francis Bacon?" you exclaimed, staring at the famous painting as your boyfriend pulled you through his house.

"Probably," Patrick replied. "Otherwise my dad paid $86 million for a really good replica."

"Your dad is the guy who bought the Francis Bacon painting last year? I learned about this in my art history class last quarter," you realised, wide eyes greedily inspecting the renowned artwork. "I know I'm repeating myself, but you're really fucking rich, Pat!"

"You're rich too."

You shook your head, laughter bubbling from your lips. "My mother made money in tennis and has some kind of a wealth manager who invests it so she can stay rich. We don't have expensive paintings or crystal chandeliers. You're old money rich," you accused Patrick in a hushed whisper. "You're so rich that your parents aren't going to approve of me!"

The musical sound of Patrick's cackles echoed through the large hall. "Trust me, they're going to approve of you more than they approve of me," Patrick insisted, glancing back and smiling reassuringly at you. "Besides, my parents really aren't that intense about who I date."

"Your parents are going to think I used my wiles to seduce you and steal your family fortune," you said, ignoring his encouragement. "Honestly, I'm kind of mad I didn't think of it myself."

"You're overreacting," Patrick accused you. "Your house is big."

"Yeah, my house is pretty big," you admitted. "But not compared to this! You should provide headphones for a guided tour, like the ones they have in museums. It looks like Mr Darcy should be living here and fending women off," you emphasised how beautiful and humongous his house was. "Is that an original Jeff Koons balloon dog sculpture?!"

"All right, Elizabeth Bennett, settle down," Patrick teased, coming to a halt outside a set of deep brown wooden double doors.

He was getting noticeably anxious. You noticed him shifting nervously from foot to foot, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. The hand that clasped yours shook, and you watched as Patrick swallowed hard, the nervous gulp audible in the quiet room. His forehead glistened with a faint sheen of sweat, and he kept wiping his free palm on his suit trousers. Patrick's eyes – unusually dark and nervous – had a distant, unfocused look, as if he was lost in the maze of his anxious thoughts.

Worriedly, you asked, "Pat?"

"I always feel like I'm ten years old when I visit my parents," Patrick confessed quietly. "I know they love me and I'm a lot luckier than most people, but I just know they think tennis is a waste of time. It's like they're rooting for me to fail so I can join the family business, get a cushy job, and continue the family tradition of being a rich asshole."