“Got me lookin’ like a damn fool,” Arthur grumbled under his breath before he arrived at your place, brushing off the dust that had collected on his suit. The fact that Angelo Bronte was your father made the entire situation even more nerve-wracking for him.

He patiently waited for you outside the mansion, his anxiety evident in the way he kicked his feet in the dirt, kicking up dust. He hadn't been on a date in a long time.