artifice » oikawa x reader

4. Insidious

"Crimson red? That's such a tawdry color." You play with your glass, running your finger around the rim of your champagne flute. The chardonnay scintillates under the soft, muted lights overhead, and you watch the tiny bubbles rise to the surface.

"Crimson matches anybody's skin tone," he says, cocking his head and watching you through half-lidded eyes. "I don't think it's very gaudy at all."

"It'd be visible through the wedding dress," you retort. "The last thing I want is for all my relatives and business partners to see that. My mother would be mortified."

"Your lingerie can be sheer," he shrugs, swirling his glass.

Making a face at him, you sniff at the champagne, take another small gulp, and set it down on the table next to you. You cross your legs and busy yourself arranging the throw pillows around yourself in the soft chair.

"You don't like the chardonnay?" He pouts. "I got just for you."

"Maybe you should ask me first next time," you say, setting your jaw in a firm line. "I don't drink anyways. Thanks."

"You just drank a whole flute of champagne just now," mutters Oikawa. "What a strange girl."

You glare at him. "What do you mean by that?"

"First you say you don't drink, then you take a big gulp of chardonnay, then you refuse to drink again. Maybe your father was right."

"Excuse me?"

"For someone who's supposed to take over Laesia and make all the important calls on all global company affairs, you're sure indecisive. I can see his point now," he sighs, leaning back in his chair. "I almost feel sorry for him."

You begin to rise out of your seat. "I'm not incompetent, you bastard."

"I never said you were. I just said indecisive, is all. But if you're going to get riled up, you should take a drink and calm yourself." He raises his glass. "To your health."

You stare at the brunet. "I don't need your empty toasts."

"But you sure as hell need my money." He takes a sip of his champagne and raises his eyebrows at you. "Take a seat, (First Name), and have a drink."

Huffing, you sit back down in your chair. "I'm not your drinking buddy."

"You were more than willing to comply with that earlier."

"I was stressed and I needed a drink."

"Mhm, and I'm not beautifully handsome and talented. Right. Go on."

You bite back a scathing remark and pick up the champagne flute again; eyeing it warily, you bite your lip and watch the effervescent liquid bubble. "I think I'll pass for today. I've had enough alcohol."

"If you insist. Shall we continue talking about the venue for our wedding?"

You roll your eyes. "Vaux-le-Vicomte, near Paris, France, you're picking up the tab... what else is there to discuss?"

"I'll tell you why I chose France for our wedding," he says, picking up a small, elegantly bound leather brochure and sliding it across the table to you. "That's the informational booklet on Vaux-le-Vicomte. You should take a look at it."