artifice » oikawa x reader

3. Surreptitious

"Oikawa, the one and only, at your service."

You turn away from your father so he can't see the disgusted scowl that adorns your countenance. "What do you want?"

"You're not cursing at me? This is new," he murmurs. You can practically hear the condescending smirk in his voice.

"Get on with it."

He chuckles, the laughter sounding like melted bronze and smooth saxophone notes. "I was wondering what kind of flowers you liked so I could get you matching lingerie for our wedding night."

You pause to process his words, and you falter for a moment. "Excuse me?"

"What kind of flowers would you like for our room? I'm buying you matching lingerie."

You're sputtering at this point, and you're glad that your back is to your father so that he can't see your face slowly flushing red. Biting your tongue, you try to resist the urge to call your fiancé every foul name in the book and then some.

"I was thinking a nice, deep crimson red," he drawls, his dulcet tones syrupy smooth and sickly sweet, accentuated by the sound of ice clinking in a glass on the other side. "It'd complement your skin tone well."

"I'd love to stay and chat with you about our wedding, but I have a meeting to go to." You press the "hang up" button and slam the phone receiver down on the cherry wood desk, hearing the hollow sound echo throughout your father's chilly office.

"(First Name)! Don't be rude to your fiancé." Your father tuts and shakes his head, looking at you with raised eyebrows. "Remember what he's doing for us."

You try to keep your lip from curling at the mere mention of a certain brunet. "My deepest apologies, Father. I'm still a bit shocked over the announcement of the marriage, so if you would excuse me for a moment..." You bow to your father, keeping your eyes downcast on the floor as you turn to leave.

Your heels clack on the wood paneling and you can see the harsh glare of the overhead lights reflected on the shiny black cherry flooring. Nodding to your father's receptionist, your phone rings just as you walk through the automatic doors towards the bustling city street.

Glancing at your phone screen, you don't recognize the number but accept the call anyways. "Hello?"

"You never answered me."

"Excuse me, who is this?" You round a corner and pause at a busy intersection, watching the cars zip by. You already recognize the silky voice but hope that it's not who you think it is.

"What color flowers? I really do recommend a deep crimson red. It does wonders for anybody's skin tone, but it would look particularly flattering on you."

"I can't believe that you're saying this to me." A car honks and you begin to cross the road, merging into the flow of people and leisurely strolling pedestrians.

"If you don't have a preference, then let's determine the material first. Would you prefer lace, ribbon, or something else...?"

"I'm not wearing anything you buy for me, you perverted bastard."

"The wedding's in two months. I suggest you not call me foul names and that we get along pleasantly, (First Name), if not just for your father's sake."

"Oh, you're such a liar. There's no way the wedding is in two months. That's too short-notice."

"I do think you're a bit spunky, but maybe leather would be too much. Well, we can decide this later. I do recommend crimson, though."