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Should I feel offended because they're being rude...or alarmed since theyaremy kidnappers, and it's quite possible they're planning something nefarious?
I know I should feel concerned at the very least, but it's hard to make myself care when I'm enjoying the best meal I've had in ages, and...oooh,dessert's here, and it smells decadently divine.
Just one bite of my seven-layer chocolate cake tastes like sin, and I make up my mind then and there: I'm just going to focus on filling my stomach, since Iamstill their prisoner, and I need to have enough energy for whatever my next ordeal will be.
Supper comes to a satisfying end with a palate-cleansing coconut sherbet, and it's only when I hear Cesare murmur my name that I'm aghast to realize I've nodded off while waiting for coffee to be served.
Oops?
"Congratulations,tesoro," Cesare drawls. "I think it's safe to say you're the first person in the world to have had food coma while being kidnapped."
I think so, too, actually, but no way am I going to admit it, you know?
"I...I...was justtired—-" It's the lamest excuse, but I end up stunned when the gleam of amusement in his gaze abruptly vanishes. He bought that?Really?
"I askedNonnaif I may speak to you in private," Cesare says tautly.
The atmosphere in the room instantly changes, and I start feeling nervous when I realize the sudden tension between us hasn't anything to do with my food coma. "Is it that bad?"
"Sì, tesoro.It is that bad."
Shit.
Is this about something I did? Is it something that could get me killed? Is it—-
"Perdonami."
—-something that would make him say 'fuck me'?
"I'm saying...I'm sorry."
But I heard him wrong obviously, and I'mrelievedto be wrong.Honest.
"Because unlike you, I've always known about our betrothal."
He says the words like he's grimly confessing his crimes to a judge, and my confusion only grows, since I just can't see where this conversation is leading to.
"But unlike your grandmother or mine, I never tried to look for you. I even convinced myself it was for the better—-and for that you paid the price of my selfishness."
The self-contempt harshly underscoring his tone is unmistakable, but—-
"I still don't get it?" I say weakly. "Are you blaming me—-"
"Certo che no!"
I don't get that either, but the exasperation in his tone is clear enough, so I'm guessing he's sayingno?
"I am blaming myself," Cesare grates out.
"For what?"
"For what you had to endure," he snarls. "I was watching you eat earlier—-"
Oh shit,did he hear me burp?
"And I could not understand why it seemed like you hadn't eaten for days. That was whenNonnatold me where she found you—-"
Understanding finally dawns, and I jerk in my seat.
