“It was…uh…I had topackit to stop the bleeding,” she says, trying to find the politest way to say it.
This has me laughing harder. Her face is hysterical. She looked halfway between throwing up and being furious at the pure audacity of what she had to do.
“I can do all that myself now, and if I can’t, I’m sure Yaroslav will assist,” I tell her, and she breathes a massive sigh of relief.
“Oh, thankgoodness. I don’t mind changing bandages and stuff, but that was…gross.” Her nose is so scrunched, I’m laughing all over again. It hurts my side, but I can’t stop.
“Come on, hand me the knife so I can cut this up,” I say when I’ve caught my breath. She hands me the knife and goes to fetch the eggs.
It’s nice working in the kitchen with her. It feels comfortable, like it’s something I could very easily get used to.
Chapter 10 - Izabel
One morning, I walk into my room and see an iPad on my bed. My heart leaps with excitement. Oddly, my first thought isn’toh, now I can contact people!It’soh, yay, I can draw again!Drawing has been an escape for me. It is an incredibly freeing form of self-expression.
Of course, it only takes a few more seconds of processing to realize Icancontact someone on it.
Snatching it off my bed, I realize it isn’t just any iPad, it’smyiPad, and I stare at it in confusion. Did he go and fetch this for me? Why?
I hurriedly start it up and unlock it, then scroll immediately to WhatsApp. But there's no connection. The SIM card has been removed, and for some reason, the Wi-Fi isn’t working, not even trying to connect. There is some kind of block on it that I’m not savvy enough to understand.
Oddly, I’m not that disappointed, because how could I expect him to hand me a direct method of escape? That is something I will need to find myself. But in the meantime, he has given me the freedom to draw again.
“I thought you might want to carry on with your art,” he says, making me jump as he leans against the door frame with his arms folded over his chest.
“You know I like to draw?” I ask, holding up the iPad.
“I wouldn’t have been a very good host if I didn’t know at least a little bit about you,” he muses.
“Host,” I scoff, shaking my head. “Well, thank you. I appreciate this. Pity it can’t connect to anything,” I grin.
He chuckles. Dammit, I love it when he chuckles like that. It’s a sound I’ve started to really enjoy.
“A pity indeed. I’m headed back to the gallery if you want to join me. I need three new pieces for the west wing of the house. Either you’re going to choose the ones you like, or I’m going to buy some random hideous pieces and swap them with the artwork right outside your room.”
“You wouldn’t,” I sass, knowing he values art too much to do that.
“Try me, Pixie,” he says, turning away as though he’s leaving.
“Wait! I’ll come with. I already know which ones I would choose.”
“I know. You probably knew the moment you set your eyes on the pieces you wanted,” he laughs, still walking away from me as I race to put my shoes on and run after him before he leaves without me.
“Aren’t you worried about going back to the gallery? That someone might be there again?” I ask when we’re in the car and on the way.
“No, I have security teams scouting ahead of us, and they’ll watch the perimeter while we’re inside. I should have done it the first time.”
The visit to the gallery is more relaxed this time. I’m not entirely focused on escaping, and I rather enjoy selecting and buying the art with him.
They arrange for it to be delivered the same day, and my stomach flutters with excitement.
“Have you ever bought art before?” he asks.
“I’ve wanted to, but there isn’t much point if I don’t have somewhere permanent to hang it. So, I set it aside for one day when I have a home I feel is a real home that I’m not going to get bored of or have to leave when my brother comes looking for me and tries to get me to go back again,” I explain.
“That makes sense.”
“I want this one right outside my room. And I think this one should go in the living room above the fireplace,” I say thoughtfully.
