We made it to dinner with the whole family giving us looks as we came downstairs. Ivan didn't care though, I of course was as red as the sauce that was on the table. The whole time Ivan continued rubbing a hand on my thigh underneath the table and I smacked his hand away but each time I did that, he would grin my thigh and bring his hand higher. I swear to the gods above this man has no shame.
"You guys were late." Christine said shooting me a hard look, "If you were going to waste our food the least you could do was tell us beforehand."
"And why should we?" Ivan asked leaning against his chair.
Christine's gaze snapped to Ivan, taken aback by his question. "Excuse me?"
"You said something about wasting food and us telling you, considering the fact I pay for every single thing in this house I don't think we have to inform you about our business." Ivan finished with a hard note.
