"What the hell is she doing here?" Felix hissed under his breath, leaning slightly toward his father, eyes still fixed on Lara, who had taken her seat at the dinner table like she'd been doing it for years.
Wilson Crawford adjusted his glasses and sipped his wine, unbothered. "She came by earlier. Said she was in the area and wanted to say hello. Your mother saw her and invited her to stay for dinner. The rest… well, you're seeing it yourself."
Felix dragged a hand down his face. "The woman doesn't listen. I told her, clear as day, that there's nothing happening between us. No arrangement, no engagement. She acted like I didn't even speak."
"You're very bad at being firm, son."
"I was firm," Felix groaned. "She just… talks over it."
Wilson chuckled lowly. "Then maybe you should stop talking and start showing."
"What does that even mean?" Felix muttered.
Before Wilson could explain, a melodic voice interrupted them.
