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Ruggedly handsome. He has strong, angular features.
“Do you like syrup on your pancakes?” he asks and I immediately look to the floor, hoping he didn’t catch me staring. He transfers the pancakes to the plate.
“Sure,” I say, toeing at the floor nervously before glancing back up at him.
He’s younger than I first thought, too. Maybe in his early thirties, if that. He wears his hair a little too long. Is he self-conscious about the bad part of his face? The one mostly missing ear? What happened to him anyway?
He pours a light dribble of syrup back and forth over the stack of pancakes and then holds out my plate. I’m not sure when I last had pancakes. It’s not a very New York meal.
I take my plate and turn to the table.
And then I realize there’s only one chair.
Xavier doesn’t seem to notice that anything’s amiss, however, as he brushes right past me and sets his plate down in front of the single chair. Then he pulls his phone out of his pocket, clicks a few times and hands it to me. I hold my plate to my waist so I can grab the phone.
There’s Dad, standing by the railing of what looks like a resort right on the water, which is so blue it’s almost turquoise. My breath hitches. “It looks like paradise.”
“Not a bad place to retire,” Xavier agrees.
Dad looks anything but happy, though, as he holds up yet another paper. Daddy.
“Does he know I’m okay?” I look up at Xavier anxiously. “Can I talk to him?”
Xavier’s mouth tightens into a line. “That’s not part of the deal. No contact while you’re here.” He takes the phone back, leaving me holding my plate awkwardly.
I sigh, my stomach churning as I think of Dad going crazy worrying about me. With the way we were taken… which God, was so freaking unnecessary. I grit my teeth, though. Exploding at Xavier isn’t going to get me what I want. “Well can you at least get him pictures of me, too? Showing that I’m okay?”
He studies me for a brief moment, then nods once. I barely have a second to breathe out in relief and utter a quick, “thank you,” before he’s gesturing beside his plate. “You can set yours down here.”
I look around as he sits and, without ceremony or preamble, begins to eat.
“Um, is there another chair or step stool I could use…?”
I mean seriously, I get that these aren’t normal circumstances, but it’s not like he didn’t know I was coming. A modicum of hospitality might be nice. He certainly didn’t forget to stock up on all the other items in his bedside drawer. Remembering to make sure there was an extra chair in the dining room might have gone a long way toward showing me I’m not just an expensive sex toy/baby incubator.
Ugh. Baby. Shudder.
No, not thinking about that right now. Not thinking about that ever.
Turns out that’s easier than I would have thought, because Xavier levels me with a cold stare and snaps his fingers at me, pointing downward. “On your knees at Master’s feet. That’s the only way you’ll get any food.”
“What?” I half laugh.
I mean, of course he’s got to be joking.
That was a joke.
Right?
Right???
But Xavier just keeps up his icy demeanor, both the good and ruined half of his face immovable as he watches the confusion that’s no doubt playing out on my face. His intense focus makes it twice as hard to think straight.
He’s apparently not joking. And I note that while he’s got a fork and knife, he hasn’t provided me any.
Fine. Screw him.
I’m a grown woman perfectly capable of finding my own cutlery. My stomach rumbles and I look down at the bacon that has been continuing to sing its siren song ever since I stepped into the kitchen.
