PopularNovelChapter 48 Citrine glanced at Weston coolly, her thoughts drifting unexpectedly to her own father.
She mused to herself, *My old man's still the best-at least he's actually likable.* Weston, sensing a pair of eyes on him from across the room, turned and met Citrine's gaze head-on. Her eyes were steady, showing not even a hint of fear.
Most of the younger Carmichaels treated Weston like mice confronted by a cat; even Raymond, back when he was a teenager, had always been more than a little intimidated by his father.
But here was a girl, bold as brass, standing her ground without so much as flinching. Weston felt a rare flicker of interest.
"What's your name?" he asked.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇt"Citrine Carmichael." Citrine looked him straight in the eye, her tone poised and unflappable, every word and gesture perfectly composed-leaving no room for criticism.
"You're young, but your nerve is impressive," Weston remarked, his voice unreadable-somewhere between a compliment and a put-down.
Citrine gave a small, easy smile and replied without missing a beat, "You flatter me. I suppose I do all right." Weston's eyes narrowed.
This girl clearly knew he didn't mean it as praise-she was being deliberately obtuse.
Anyone with half a brain could tell Weston's comment was more reproach than admiration. Yet Citrine acted as if she hadn't noticed at all, turning his words back on him and leaving him momentarily speechless.
"What school are you attending now?" Weston pressed, frowning.
"Havencrest Preparatory Academy." "And your grades?" Weston's career-mindedness was legendary; his standards for his children were impossibly high, and precious few ever measured up. Now, as he scrutinized the young woman before him, his tone was the sone he used when grilling subordinates.
"Dad, Citrine's not your employee," Raymond interjected, unable to keep the edge out of his voice. He'd grown up being treated like Weston's assistant, and it rubbed him the wrong way to hear his father interrogate Citrine like that.
He was about to say more, but Citrine spoke up first, her voice clear and just a touch proud.
"I manage-first in my year, actually." She lifted her chin, a little like a smug kitten, radiating unspoken defiance. Weston found himself, for once, at a loss for words.
With a wave of his hand, he glanced at Raymond, his tone tinged with sarcasm. "Your daughter's quite something, isn't she?" Raymond bit back a laugh-he was tempted, but with so many eyes on them, he managed to keep a straight face. After bidding Weston goodbye, Raymond led Citrine over to the refreshments table.
*Which one should I try?* Citrine wondered, her gaze drifting over the assorted cakes and pastries, a faint frown creasing her brow. She'd always had a sweet tooth.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏm"Take whatever you like," Raymond said, reading her expression. He handed her a large plate with a grin.
Citrine didn't hesitate-she loaded her plate with every dessert that caught her fancy.
Raymond grabbed another plate for himself, piling it with a colorful selection of snacks.
They found a quiet corner and sat down together.
"You really surprisedback there," Raymond said, a smile tugging at his lips as he remembered how his father had been left speechless.
"Didn't see that coming." Citrine took a bite of ice cream and looked at him. "He doesn't like me. I don't like him either."
She had no intention of forcing a smile for someone who clearly m disliked her, She'd lived through too much to ever put herself through that kind of discomfort again.
If Weston tried to make things difficult, she'd give as good as she got. Raymond hadn't expected her candor, he opened his mouth, searching for a response, but found nothing to say--because she was simply telling the truth. After that little confrontation, everyone present now knew Raymond had a daughter, and that she'd been acknowledged by the Carmichael family.
Among the city's elite, this was guaranteed to be the juiciest piece of gossip of the day.
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