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Flo's POV ....

The only sound that could be heard at the dining table was the clanking of the cutlery against our dinner plates. Jorge had joined us for dinner, much to my dismay, but it wasn't up to me.

My mother had been staring daggers at me all night. I knew she was still mad over my little comments from earlier but she needed to get over it.

"So Flo," Jorge tried to fill the awkward silence, "your father tells me that you are yet to be matched."

I already didn't like where this conversation was going. I was in no mood for this.

"Yes, and what is that to you?"

"Florence," my mother reprimanded me, "that is no way to talk to our guests."

I rolled my eyes, "this man isn't a guest. We are practically harboring a fugitive and you two are acting like this all normal. I honestly don't know what you were thinking allowing him into our lands dad."