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I blinked.
He caught the action and tilted his head to the side. “What?”
I shrugged. “Nothing. That’s the most I’ve heard you speak without lecturing or threatening me.” Shifting my weight, I continued to right myself after my tumble before glancing back up to capture his reaction. His eyes narrowed for a moment, and I squirmed under his stare. “Well, I guess the apology thing counts as a lecture, so I rescind my compliment.”
Silence. Apparently calling him out had not been the right idea.
“Sorry, again. I’d be happy to confess all of my sins to Señora Olguín if it would make you feel better.” I turned back to my water and took a sip.
Antonio huffed. “Say you’re sorry again, and I will throw you out of the car on the way to the city.”
There was a lack of bite in his threat, so I glanced over my shoulder, ready to demand him to tell me if that was actually a laugh. One look at the clearly visible muscles of his back through his fitted shirt and I decided not to. My eyes went back to the plate, where they belonged, and I continued with my food.
My hearing was hyper attuned to the sounds coming from the servant and Antonio. It was silly to feel self-conscious in his presence because I would be sweating like a pig in front of him in no time, but, here we were.
When he came to sit next to me, my entire left side tensed. He ate alongside me, pulled out that strange technology-rectangle once again, and I bit my lip.
“What is that thing?” I finally asked.
His honey-brown colored eyebrow quirked up as he glanced at me. “A docufone.”
My forehead scrunched up. “A what?”
The exhalation that came out of his nose sounded akin to something like a fire-breathing dragon. “I use it to communicate. Sometimes to read the news.”
I nodded slowly. “I suppose that’s useful.”
He nodded as he chewed. With each bite, the muscles in his square jaw tensed and flexed in interesting ways. I wondered what kind of money women would offer me to paint close ups of his face.
He’d had pictures taken, and he’d been filmed too many times to count. But none of the Artistsas captured the majesty of being right in front of him. His face was more tanned along his forehead and nose, and the ruddy red color that bloomed in the middle of his cheeks was kind of beautiful.
When his eyes snapped onto me, I immediately brought my gaze back onto my plate.
“Something on your mind?” he asked.
I cleared my throat. “Just—hmm—wondering if I should get one of those docufones?”
With swift and graceful movement, he speared a steamed carrot. A quick “perhaps,” was followed by the sounds of his chewing.
The rest of the meal continued in silence, but for some idiotic reason, the simple conversation made me feel better. I longed to be comfortable once again, to have companions.
I attempted to daintily dab at my mouth with my napkin and laid it down neatly on top of my plate before finishing my water. I wasn’t sure if I was doing this right, but it looked nice enough. Better than crumpled, grease-stained disposable napkins that I balled up and left on my plate for Trabajadores to collect.
“Are you ready to leave?” Antonio asked.
I nodded without looking at him and slid out of the stool. It was strange to walk around without so much as a purse, but I hadn’t been informed to bring anything other than myself.
Antonio gestured for me to leave the room first, but we walked side by side as soon as we were both in the hallway. It wasn’t difficult for me to keep up with him, since our legs were similar length.
It wasn’t until we were back near the stairs that led up to the wing where we had the morning meeting that I started to gain my bearings in this unnatural house. We walked down several hallways, and then ended up in the middle of a large stone garage.
I should have developed a thick skin for the absurd wealth exhibited across every inch of this estate, but there was no world I could imagine where a person would need not one, not two, but four cars. All of the finest make and model.
I chewed on my lip.
Everything in the garage was expertly crafted and undoubtedly at least a hundred years old. The gate-like doors at the front were a recent addition, but I could hardly pick out other places where the space had been adapted to house modern vehicles instead of carriages.
I stopped a few paces in. “Is someone going to drive us?” I asked. For some reason, I was nervous to sit in the back seat and be crammed next to Antonio.
