In response, Carmilla smiled.
"I can't tell. But do be careful."
She halted as they arrived before the double, huge door.
"Take care, my lady. We'll be waiting for you out here," Thalia said, her voice tinged with concern.
She reached forth her hand, and with Carmilla's aid, they opened the door for Avelina.
Avelina took a step forward and moved into the so-called dining room, the door immediately shutting behind her.
The atmosphere was chilling, but the interior was quite elegant.
The room was vast, with ceilings that seemed to stretch up toward the heavens. The walls were painted a deep, rich burgundy and adorned with ornate, gold-trimmed moldings that gave the room an air of opulence.
It was lit by a series of intricate chandeliers, each one made of delicate crystals and wrought iron. The room…was majestic!
Avelina's gaze shifted to the center of the dining room, where a long table made of strong glass, and set with fine china, silver cutlery, and crystal goblets, was positioned.
Along this table were seated different people.
On the left side sat five men, one of whom was Draven, exquisitely dressed in fine silk and lace, and on the right side sat three gorgeous women, who were the daughters-in-law.
Beside them sat a young boy and a young girl about the age of five, leaving only one seat empty. A seat that she could tell was hers because it was opposite Draven.
All gazes shifted to her, but the only eyes she concentrated on were those reddish ones behind glasses with sparkling orbs gleaming in them.
"Mrs. Avelina, please have a seat." An old-looking butler, dressed in a black jacket, a light-colored shirt, a tie, and a blazer trousers with his gray hair perfectly permed, gestured to the seat opposite Draven.
Avelina slightly smiled, a bit nervous under their heavy gazes, and walked over to the seat.
As she sat down, the middle-aged old master seated at the head chair focused his gaze on her.
He was a regal figure with piercing gray eyes and an air of authority.
"No sense of courtesy! Have you taught your wife no manners, Draven?" he abruptly questioned, causing a heavy tension to instantly encompass the atmosphere.
With his eyes fixed on Avelina, Draven responded, "I will make sure to do so, Father."
"Teach her well. This old man does not condone mannerless daughter-in-laws. Not a human one at that," the old man retorted, scowling in disdain.
Avelina glanced at Draven, wondering what she had done wrong.
Was there something she should have said?
A deep breath fled Draven's nose, and he looked away from her.
"Why have you suddenly chosen to get married, Draven?"
The old master, Mr. Lenort Delgaard, asked as he slowly munched on his dinner.
Draven paused, raising his eyes to look at Avelina. He reviewed his words and phrases.
"I felt lonely."
"Hmm?" Old Master Lenort furrowed his brows, thoroughly perplexed.
Draven half-smiled, lowering his gaze to the table.
"No one desires to be with me, so...I am lonely."
"My quarter feels empty without a wife to keep me company. Surely none of you understand such a feeling."
"Whose fault is it?" The eldest son, Ryan Delgaard, with black neck-length curly hair, brown eyes, and a chiseled, well-sculpted face, asked, rather unconcerned about the matter. "Besides, I do not see how affected you can get—"
Old Master Lenort glanced at him with his cold eyes, shutting him up.
As he withdrew his gaze, he took a peek at Avelina and supported his chin with his hand.
"Why did you stoop so low to marry a human slave? Weren't there any female vampires to your taste?" he queried.
Draven responded with a question, his frigid voice filled with indifference. "Don't you know how the world sees me, Father?"
Old Master Lenort arched his right brow and chortled.
"I do. But perhaps you have the desire to disgrace the Delgaard family," he retaliated with absolute hostility in his tone.
"I have no reason to do so," Draven responded bluntly.
"Oh…" Old Master Lenort folded his arms and leaned back on the seat. "How is your relationship with your wife? Surely you didn't marry her because of the inheritance? You know that is not how it works. I won't consider you qualified if you don't have even a shred of love—"
"Be rest assured, Pére. I do have some likeness for her." Draven's eyes drifted towards Avelina.
He added, "It is but only common sense that I do not love her. After all, we've only just met. Perhaps, I could grow to do so in the future. I heard love takes nothing but time to develop."
Old Master Lenort's lips curled into a smile. He was so amused that anyone in the room could tell he was restraining himself from bursting into laughter. But why? No one knew.
"Is that so?"
"Why don't you prove it?"
Draven frowned. "Prove what?"
"Well, you said you do like her even if it is not love, so...prove that you do!" Old Master Lenort cackled tauntingly.
Draven stared at him for a few seconds as though in thought. He abruptly took a soft breath and asked, "In what way?"
Old Master Lenort beamed and adjusted on his seat. He picked up a glass of wine, stylishly holding it in between his fingers, and drank it all in a single gulp.
"Kiss her!"
"What?" Draven asked, appalled. He needn't be told as he could immediately tell that his father was messing with him. It was not the first time!
"If you have a bit of likeness for her, surely it won't be a problem to give her a simple kiss, would it?" Old Master Lenort chuckled in amusement. "I mean, she is your wife, isn't she?"
He knew his son and was aware he was a man who held not even a shred of emotion. He wouldn't kiss his new wife—this he was sure of. And that was exactly why he made such a suggestion no matter how absurd it sounded.
If he thought marrying a wife would solve his current problem…then he was wrong. The qualification regarding the family inheritance does not work in such a way. You don't just go ahead and get a wife!
"Indeed, you are right, Father." Ryan chirped in, wholly supporting such a suggestion.
Draven glimpsed Avelina, who had a deep frown settling in between her brows.
"Wouldn't that be inappropriate, father?" he inquired, his eyes never leaving her.
"Not at all. I permitted you, so prove it to me, otherwise, you will not even have a bit of a chance. For you to suddenly marry, I can't help but think it's not genuine. You know the rules, Draven. You must love your wife or at the very least, make her worthy," Old Master Lenort said patronizingly. "Or… I see no reason for you to marry her and claim she is your wife."
"Unless...this is a contract marriage!"