Emma hated waiting. The rain, and the cold, made the wait even worse then the sting of humiliation. Once again, Henry made her wait for him, as if his time had no value. She tried to push the feeling aside, but it gnawed at her like the biting wind. It wasn’t just the cold; it was the old bitterness creeping back, the memories of waiting for him on countless nights, standing now in the rain, on the street corner, like a common...
The sound of the engine interrupted her thoughts. She recognized Henry’s sleek Aston Martin through the misty rain, and stepped back quickly to avoid the splash of water from the tires. Characteristically of him, Henry didn’t bother to get out of the car and open the door for her. She was expected to climb in on her own, rather than him inconveniencing himself in the rain for some gallant gesture. She had just enough time to see Henry and Sarah walk out of the apartment to see her off when the car took off, barely managing to wave her husband goodbye before she was whisked away.
***********
Claridge turned out to be their ultimate destination. It was impossible to miss the opulence of the place. It had a fresh, modern look to it, while still managing to look effortlessly rich. Polished marble floors, intricate wall panels, and plush leather seating all came together to create a space that felt both cool and sophisticated.
She kept her composure as they were escorted to a private room – a dimly lit chamber with soft, golden hues, velvet-lined walls, and table set with crystal glasses and polished plates.
At the head of the table sat a bespectacled man with long sideburns and graying hair. His voice was slick and smooth, like a practiced politician or a snake oil salesman. Beside him was a tall, striking young woman, silent and still, more like an accessory than participant. Another man, older then the rest, with silvery hair meticulously combed, sat with his equally elegant wife. She was middle-aged, poised, and so perfect in her composure it was hard to imagine her ever letting go of control.
No one spoke as Emma shed her coat - deliberately slow. She could feel the heat of their gazes following her every movement, and she took her time, enjoying the effect she was having. She didn’t miss the hunger in Henry’s eyes, the longing for her body. It was exactly the reaction she wanted to draw out of him. He had made her wait on the street like some insignificant afterthought, and now he was the one squirming, unable to look away from the one thing he couldn’t possess.
She smiled politely when he introduced her, deciding against saying anything when he called her his ‘date’. Her expression didn’t change when he didn’t bother giving her the names of any of the others. It wasn’t an accident, or an oversight, but a clear sign of disrespect, something he had perfected over the years.
The conversation quickly shifted to business once they were seated. Henry’s world, not hers. He dove into talks of recent acquisitions and business ventures, sounding so comfortable and authoritative, while she couldn’t help but feel out of place. She had no way to contribute, and the more they talked, the more obvious it became. He was in his element. She, on the other hand, was just a pretty face.
Her attention sharpened, though, when the bespectacled man said something about an upcoming retreat, asking Henry if he will be bringing ‘Emma, Claire, or perhaps Christine’ with him. It was the first time she has been referred to by name, and for a moment, she knew his question was part of a show. Everyone in the room was playing a part, but for once, she wasn’t going to let them control the narrative:
"If it’s anything like the snooze fest you’ve been having tonight," she interjected with a smirk
"then there is no need for me to travel all the way for a nap. I can fall asleep right here in this chair."OOC:
Emma wasn't formally introduced, but here is what I have for the dinner guests:
Reginald Pembroke – an English aristocrat and a member of the House of Lords.
Charlotte Pembroke – Reginald wife is sharp, attentive, and carries herself with an undeniable air of authority
Alastair Sinclair– a smooth (and disingenious) businessman that fawns on Henry
Ekaterina – Alastair’s companion for the evening. Russian, barely speaks a word of English.
