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Goose bumps scatter on my skin.
I take another bite. It doesn’t taste as bitter as the previous. More earthy. Like a homegrown carrot. And surprisingly, I’m still not dead.
“Do you like my cooking?”
I look up, but I can’t ever get used to those pristine eyes staring straight into my soul.
“It’s food. It’ll do.”
I mean, I was starving, but I won’t ever tell him that. I won’t give him more ammo than he already has.
I quickly grasp the carafe and fill my empty glass to chug down the water in one go, and then pour myself another one.
“That’s not what I asked.” His low voice makes me painfully aware of the fact that this whole table filled with food is a ticking time bomb.
I take another bite of the carrots. “They’re burnt.”
But I guess any kind of food is better than none right now.
He snorts and rubs his now stubbly chin. “I was busy.”
“With what?” I ask, shoving more potatoes into my mouth. I mean, if it’s offered to me, I might as well take it before I starve to death.
“This house doesn’t run itself, Jas,” he replies. “I know your pretty little ass was well taken care of at home.”
The potato almost falls straight from my mouth.
Pretty little ass?
“Yeah, I remember.” He leans forward on his elbow. “I remember the butlers. The nannies. The cleaning ladies. The personal drivers. I don’t remember much, but I remember the lavish luxury you grew up in.”
“So did you,” I reply.
“I hated every second of it, and you know it,” he says. “Out here, there’s nothing but cold, harsh, rough nights and hunger if you don’t work for your money.”
I stop eating entirely even though I’m still hungry.
“Living out here was your own choice,” I say.
His chair scoots back. Damn. I struck a nerve. “I didn’t choose to become the villain.”
I drop my knife and fork and stand up too. “You chose to come back to kill my sister.”
The silence is murderous.
“You could’ve chosen to look the other way. To let her enjoy her life in peace with your brother.”
“In peace? With my brother?” He snorts. “Don’t make me laugh.”
“You don—didn’t even know them.” I stumble over my words, hoping he won’t notice.
“He was my fucking brother,” he growls. “I knew him better than anyone.”
“Yet you didn’t see it coming that he’d jump off that cliff after her,” I retort.
His lips part but nothing comes out. Instead, his fists ball on the table.
Suddenly, he kicks the chair back and marches over to me. I brace myself against my chair with my back, holding on tight as he gets all up in my face. “They both deserve each other.”
