Holiday One-Shots

November 24th

A/N: Oml, this is the second to last story for this book! I'm a mixture of relieved and sad that it's ending. Holiday One-Shots has been in my life for over a year and a half now. I'm sadly content with letting it go... especially since the last two are porn ;) lol.

Thanksgiving One-Shot: 

Roots

An old record player hums classical music in the background of the Dayan's Thanksgiving dinner. I've come to realize that it's more of a formal event than an actual family gathering. The meals are cooked and served by a famous French chef and his team rather than actual guests. Oddly enough, all they've discussed since dinner started is business and, likewise, business related gossip. I'm not judging anyone's method's of celebration; I'm just saying that they're foreign to me.

"Herman refused to do anything but I demanded Alton to take care of it. The next time there is even a thought to go on strike, the workers will disburse like wildfire." Mrs. Dayan spoke in her naturally authoritative voice. Not many of the other Dayan's spoke to me; only Roman's living parent, sister, and a few aunts and uncles gave courteous greetings. Mrs. Dayan didn't seem very pleased. Many nights prior, when his mother called to inform him of the dinner, was the first time he told her about the change in our relationship. She asked him a thousand questions out of my earshot, but I knew she wasn't pleased with the results of her inquiries. Beverly Dayan's attention turns to my fiance, Roman. "Perhaps if you'd picked a girl of my choosing instead of one close enough in stature to have an obligation to defend them... they'd be more inclined to fear you as much as they do me."

My mouth hangs open in shock. The fact that'd she'd say such a thing was bad enough, but to slander me in front of people that I have yet to know shocked me. It was a level of disrespect I had not expected from my future mother in law. It... hurt. A large hand squeezes my inner thigh. I look over to the left of me. Roman's head hangs as he looks down at me warningly. Holding my tongue was hard, and he knew it. The suddenness of the situation allowed him time to calm me. Instead my eyes only grow dark with anger.

Time passes slowly as they carry on with their conversations. They show no concern for anything aside from their business and the food. Soon, however, I receive the opportunity to lighten things up. "-hasn't been that good since Roman was a boy of six," Randal, the brother of Roman's late father, said. There is enough of a pause between replies for me to speak up. "What was Roman's childhood like?" I asked sweetly with a sip of wine. His mother seems to have an instant reply. "The little brat had a wonderful childhood; he got everything he wanted. For this, I assume him believing he can do the same now it my fault." There was a hidden meaning to her words by the way she looked at me as she spoke them. My attempt to bring up a family friendly conversation had failed. All it did was leave me with rage burning in my throat.

The thing that angered me most about what she said was her complete and utter lack of appreciation for all Roman has done for the company. He slaves day and night with his share, and her share, if asked, of the work. At the age of thirty-two, Roman has been sporting grey hairs since his twenties. His chiseled jaw line becomes exaggerated occasionally due to lack of appetite. His bright brown eyes seem to dull with time. He even allows his chestnut hair to grow shoulder length since he hardly has time to cut it.

"Don't even think about it." He whispers in my ear. I hadn't notice him lean in so close to me before he spoke. He grips my hand and places it on his thigh as an act of comfort. "Why do you allow her to say such horrible things?" I ask lowly, calming myself. In response his lips graze my earlobe. He speaks to me in a low seductive voice. "You wouldn't be upset if you would've asked for my permission to speak, like you should have." His husky voice made me shiver. Roman always uses our past relationship as leverage over me.