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He stopped eating long enough to reach across the table and squeeze my hand. “Back at you, Mila-Bila.”
Jessa appeared at my elbow with a coffee pot. About my age, the housekeeper had her hair in a frizzy red topknot and a body that was all muscle. In her free time, she was either a runner or gym rat, or both.
“More coffee?” she asked.
I cast her a grateful look. “Yes, please.”
While Joey finished my breakfast, I sipped coffee and peppered him with questions. I was hungry for any news—him, my parents, Nonna, our cousins.
Nonna had taken a trip to Italy and enjoyed seeing all her old friends so much she’d almost stayed for good, but she was back in Baltimore now. Cousin Sara was married with a baby on the way. As for Joey, he was partway through a chemical engineering degree.
But Mom and Dad were just going through the motions, not sure if I was dead or alive. “It’s like you dropped off the face of the earth,” Joey said. “They reported it to the police, hired a private detective to look for you.” He didn’t tell me again that I should call them, but his disapproval weighed like a thundercloud in the air between us.
My throat clogged. “I’m sorry,” I managed to say. “But I did it for them. They threatened you, Joey. All of you.”
His jaw set. “The private eye said they should give up—that you were probably dead.”
My stomach turned over. “Oh, God. I didn’t think—I mean, I left a note.”
“Yeah. But who knew what happened after that? You couldn’t even send us a fucking Christmas card?”
I glanced at the kitchen where Jessa was polishing the stainless steel refrigerator, and lowered my voice. “I was afraid to.”
Joey dragged his hands down his face. “Whatever.” Shoving back his chair, he rose to his feet. “I’m going to bed. Jessa said I could sleep in that room where I took the shower.”
“That’s right.” The housekeeper stopped working long enough to flash him a professional smile. Polite but no real warmth. “The bed’s made up and I put fresh towels in the bathroom.”
“Thank you.” Joey turned to leave, then hesitated. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Of course, I am. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
“Okay.” He dragged a hand down his face. “I’m too tired right now to ask what the fuck is up with you and Kral. You can tell me when I get up.”
My mouth dropped open. Since when did I have to explain myself to my kid brother? “What?”
“You heard me.” He was already out of the dining room.
I was tired, too, but I couldn’t sleep, so I went exploring instead.
The penthouse’s main rooms were on an open plan, with high ceilings and jewel-toned skylights that let in muted sunlight. The kitchen flowed into the dining room, which flowed into the living room, where a wall of smoked-glass windows overlooked the East River. Like the foyer, the living room was filled with tropical plants and potted flowers.
This, I thought, was Gabriel’s real home, not the beach house. A big but cozy cave, with floors of gray tiles and rough wood walls, some painted black, others left unpainted. Edison light bulbs hung from rustic bronze fixtures, and the furniture was a mix of more slate and bronze, with the chairs and couch covered in earthy reds and oranges. The paintings were large, slashing abstracts in more earth tones, and one wall held built-in shelves spilling over with books, games and primitive stone statues.
The place was spotless. I was almost afraid to touch anything in case Jessa went batshit crazy on me. Something about the housekeeper made me uneasy.
I mean, who irons socks and underwear? But earlier, when I’d glanced into the utility room off the kitchen, she’d been pressing Gabriel’s T-shirts, and on the counter next to her was a stack of freshly-ironed socks.
The master bedroom was on the opposite side of the apartment from the kitchen, along with the two guest bedrooms. Gabriel was still in the study next to the master bedroom, but Joey’s door was ajar, so I peeked in.
He was face down on the mattress, arms and legs by his sides like a felled log. His upper body was bare, the sheet pulled up around his narrow waist.
My chest squeezed. He’d slept like that when he was a kid, too. He’d go-go-go like a maniac all day, and then when night came, drop into bed like someone had cut his strings.
My fingers tightened on the doorjamb. He was safe. That’s all that mattered.
I backed out of the room and glanced at the closed study door. But I could hear Gabriel on the phone, so I returned to the living room and stood at the windows, gazing down at the East River through the darkened glass.
The summer sun refracted off the water in glittering shards, and kayaks and sailboats vied for space with tourist-heavy cruise boats circling the island of Manhattan. They seemed so far away, so distant. I wondered if that was how vampires felt, observing humans…like we were creatures from another planet.
