.. same old love

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mathilde was really pushing to his wit's end. he'd done everything he could possibly do to make her come around and she was still choosing to dig in her heels. well, maybe not everything. so now it was time for the big guns. his last attempt to make things up to her had gone down in flames and while he'd tried to walk away somewhere between his pride and his arrogance wouldn't let him. he knew that a girl like mathilde was the girl for him. she was polished and refined, she had that elegance that can only be bred and she had a last name that made most men on the east coast swoon. he would be a complete idiot to let her get away over something as small as infidelity. once upon a time she might have overlooked that kind of thing, he wished things were still that easy. but now he had a new game plan. there was something that no woman in her position could say no to, she was desperately single at the moment, her reputation had been dragged through the mud by non other than mathilde vanderbit herself and her family were starting to push for her to settle down. if the 15 carat, princess cut platnium gold harry winston engagement ring wasn't going to shut her up, nothing would. he had a chilled bottle of '95 dom pérignon and her favourite beluga caviar. this shit, he knew. he wasn't giving her any chance to say no either. letting himself into her apartment with her spare key, the ring weighed heavy in his pocket before he took it out and tossed it onto the coffee table. he found a silver champagne bucket and added ice to keep the bottle chilled. two champagne flutes from her well stocked cupboards, perfectly fit for entertaining despite living alone and that's exactly why she was the kind of woman he needed. the caviar would wait til later. she sat back on her lounge, on arms relaxed back along the back of the sofa, stretching out comfortable like he was supposed to be there, ankle rested on up on his knee casually, ring waiting on the coffee table expectantly. he knew she was due home soon, so now it was just a matter of waiting. he couldn't text her and let her know or she mightn't come home at all, and he wasn't going to wait all night and get into another fight over something stupid again. .................... --- notes: this is a mess --- @mathilde

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Mathilde was nine years old the first time her mother mentioned marriage. It was a holiday party, one of those stuffy events her family hosted simply to keep themselves relevant among the elite. She had been forced into a classic '90's dress of deep reds with so many frills that fully grown Mathilde would cringe at the mere sight of. All it had taken was one brief glance in the direction of a boy in her age bracket for her mother to pipe up, joking along with her superficial friends about future prospects. Were they in the seventeenth century? At the time, she had rolled her eyes and written it off. Now, everyone in their circle seemed to be counting down the days to the inevitable wedding bells. Little did they know ( or perhaps they truly didn't care ), there was nothing healthy about the romance. They fought almost constantly, perhaps the only time they managed to get along was when they weren't talking at all or they had a common enemy. It was impossible to imagine there was any amount of love between them, but there had always been something. Something she tried desperately to push to the deepest, darkest corners of her mind, but somehow continued to flourish. Seeing him, in those few minutes before the fighting started or they discovered some terrible thing the other had done, she was happy to see him. For some, surely delusional, reason. It's in that moment, as the door swings open and her gaze falls on him, lounging so casually in her home, that she briefly forgets the disaster she had created and the bickering they two had engaged in two-fold since. Then she sighs and the door slams shut. Of course, she prepares for the worst, mulling over anything she had said or done since the last time they spoke for something that might have gotten back to him ( who was she kidding?everything got back to him ). Instead of laying into him for entering her home without permission, she shrugs out of her coat and gives a measure of effort not to be a total bitch. Maybe he's not here to grind her nerves. " how long have you been waiting? you should've texted me, i probably would have come home sooner. "

THIS IS LATE AF

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there was a soft spot within him somewhere for mathilde. he loved her, as much as he could love anyone. it was the ultimate flaw of the upper class, he'd been raised by nannies and maids, showered with gifts as opposed to affection or attention. he had grown up knowing how to throw his surname and influence around to get what he wanted. to manipulate people with his money and his good looks to get what his parent's couldn't give him on a silver platter. everything about him is tied up in his money and mathilde was no different. she was a conquest to be won, to be marked by his name so that no one else could have her. 25 years old and he was still incapable of sharing his toys. she infuriated him and intrigued him. this was probably the stupid idea he's ever had but throwing something extravagant like harry winston at her seemed like the right idea. she stepped into the apartment, shedding her coat from her thin frame. a smile, or at least a hint of one, finds his lips. he can't help himself at that first glimpse of her, well dressed, her cheeks and nose pink from the cool outside, without that old familiar guard or hostility. she mentions his wait and he chuckles. "or not come home at all" he shoots back, but his tones stay light, it wasn't an accusation, just a joke. "i thought i'd surprise you." he said casually with a shrug. "dom?" he asked, stretching out his legs and leaning forward to pick the bottle up from the champagne bucket. .................... --- notes: ta da!