Beauty stared out of the tinted window of Bruno's Lamborghini, watching the scenery blur past.
She leaned back into the plush leather seat, her heart racing nervously.
I hope my parents won't think he's just trying to show off with this luxury car, she thought, glancing at Bruno, who was focused on his driving.
She sighed and decided to start a conversation.
"I still can't believe we stayed an extra day in Puerto Rico. It felt so strange leaving after the staff. It's like we broke some kind of rule."
Bruno chuckled, glancing at her briefly before returning his gaze to the road.
"I warned you yesterday, didn't I? I told you we wouldn't leave any sooner with the game you were playing."
Beauty smiled, the memory of their intimate moments on the beach flooding back.
"Well, I'm glad we did. I enjoyed our time together."
"Me too. But I'm pretty nervous about the impression your parents will have of me."
Beauty rolled her eyes playfully.
"Baby, trust me. My parents are simple people. They might even think you're trying too hard to impress them with this car."
He smirked.
"Maybe I am. Isn't that the point? I'm meeting the most important people in your life, Baby. They should know how much you mean to me."
Her cheeks flushed at his words, and she leaned back, trying to hide her shy smile.
"You're impossible," she murmured affectionately.
Bruno smiled back, his gaze turning to the road, though his thoughts were far from the passing scenery. Simple people or not, they deserve the best.
Last night, after Beauty had fallen asleep, he'd spent hours researching how to make this meeting special and how to impress her parents. Beauty had told him her father used to be a chef but retired due to health issues.
The idea struck him then—a new, grand restaurant. Not just any restaurant, but one with her father's name on it, staffed with top chefs and equipped with the finest tools.
And for her mother? He wanted to make her life easier too. He envisioned hiring a cook and a housekeeper. They deserved to relax after working so hard for so many years.
Then there were the brand-new cars. Each parent would have their own. Two drivers were following behind in them, trailing his Lamborghini. Beauty had no idea about any of it, and Bruno planned to keep it that way—at least for now.
Beauty is their only child. I know they'll expect so much from her. Judging from my own family, he thought.
The thought of her being overwhelmed and surprised at the reveal made him smile, a secret excitement lighting up his face.
Beauty noticed and tilted her head, watching him curiously.
"What are you smiling about, Baby?"
Bruno blinked, startled out of his thoughts. He turned to her, his eyes sparkling mischievously.
"Just thinking about how lucky I am," he said softly, reaching out to hold her hands.
Beauty narrowed her eyes playfully, took his hand, and gave it a soft squeeze.
Bruno smiled, trying not to get distracted. He pulled her hand, still locked in his, and kissed the back of it.
"I'm very excited," he said.
"Me too, love. Let me call my parents and let them know we're almost home."
------
Meanwhile, at the Hills' house, Mrs. Hills darted around the kitchen, her apron tied tight and her hair pulled back into a bun that was already coming loose. The savory aroma of roasted chicken mixed with herbs filled the air, but her mind was on everything else that needed to be perfect.
"Honey, have you checked the living room pillows?" she called over her shoulder, stirring the pot of gravy on the stove.
In the next room, Mr. Hills was pacing with the vacuum cleaner in hand.
"I fluffed them twice, honey," he replied, his voice strained.
Mrs. Hills turned off the stove and wiped her hands on her apron but stopped mid-step, catching her reflection in the microwave. She smoothed her graying hair and adjusted the collar of her blouse.
"What if I look too old-fashioned? He might think Beauty's parents are... boring."
Mr. Hills poked his head into the kitchen.
"Honey, you're overthinking it. It's just dinner."
She turned sharply, narrowing her eyes.
"Just dinner? Sweetheart, this is the first time Beauty's bringing a guy home! After so many years dealing with insecurities and self hate. And not just some guy—a boyfriend. We need to give a good impression."
Mr. Hills leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms.
"I know, I know. But running yourself ragged won't help. Besides, the roast smells amazing. He'll love it."
Mrs. Hills sighed and rubbed her temples.
"You think? I don't even know what he eats. What if he's vegan? Or allergic to rosemary? You should've handled the meal—you’re a professional chef, you know."
Her husband chuckled softly and walked over, placing his hands gently on her shoulders.
"Honey, you're an incredible cook. The roast chicken smells amazing; he'll love it. Besides, Beauty wouldn't bring him here if she thought we'd mess it up. We've got this."
She let out a shaky breath and nodded.
"You're right. I'm just... nervous. I want everything to be perfect for her. For them."
Mr. Hills kissed her and returned to the living room. He put the vacuum away and adjusted the already symmetrical cushions on the couch.
The coffee table gleamed, freshly dusted, with a small vase of fresh daisies in the center. He stood back, hands on his hips, surveying the room.
"Do you think he's... serious about her?" he asked as his wife joined him, a tray of appetizers in hand.
She hesitated, setting the tray down.
"From the way Beauty spoke about him, he might be. But what if he's not? What if he's just some... playboy? She can't be heartbroken again. I hope, he is the perfect one for her."
Mr. Hills frowned.
"If he is a playboy, then he'll have to answer to me."
She gave him a small smile, shaking her head.
"Sweetheart, just don't scare the poor boy."
"I'm just saying," he shrugged. "No one hurts my baby girl."
Suddenly, the sound of a car pulling into their driveway froze them both.
"They're here! Oh my gosh, I'm so excited. I want to scream."
Mrs. Hills whispered, clutching her apron nervously.
Mr. Hills offered her his hand. She took it, and they walked to the door together, their hearts pounding in unison.
"Smile more; make our girl proud," Mrs. Hills whispered.
Mr. Hills nodded and smiled at his wife, squeezing her hand, softly to relax her nerves.