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A surge of anger moved through my chest. I chewed my food in silence and watched her from the corner of my eye. She used her fork to break the food up and shove it around her plate. But she didn’t eat anything.
I cleaned my plate, confused.
Duran poured a glass of wine for me and sat back in his chair. “Can we meet and talk after lunch then?”
Lucien nodded, his eyes falling on his fiancée’s plate. He bent and whispered something in her ear and she swallowed, nodding. I pretended I was occupied with refilling my plate, but I saw her scoop up a forkful of food and put it in her mouth.
She chewed miserably, like she was eating sand.
I was dumbfounded. What was going on in this house? Lucien was ice cold, barely human, and his fiancée was starving despite the opulence around them. I kept quiet and watched as she laboriously cleaned her plate and set her fork aside. Lucien bent and whispered something into the crook of her neck.
Her eyes lit up, flickering with light for a brief second.
I’d heard him. He’d called her a good girl.
It hit me all at once and a wave of guilt moved over me. Lucien wasn’t controlling her portions, he was ordering her to eat. Olivia had an eating disorder. Sick, I set my fork aside feeling like I’d done something wrong. Did it trigger her to watch the rest of us eat?
Lucien’s mask was back. He lounged in his chair, one hand on Olivia’s thigh.
“Have you spoken to your parents, Iris?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No, sir.”
I wasn’t sure why I said it like that. Lucien just felt like someone who demanded a certain level of respect and it made me nervous to speak directly to him.
“Would you like to see them tomorrow?”
I nodded, glancing at Duran. He dipped his head and I took it as a permissive gesture. Lucien caught the exchange and his brow twitched.
“She listens, I guess that’s something,” he said.
Anger flashed. “I do not,” I retorted.
“Oh really?” Ice curled through his words. “Is that supposed to be an asset?”
“I don’t have to listen to Duran,” I snapped. “Or you. I have my own money and I can do what I like.”
Lucien’s eyes flicked to his brother, who was watching like he was a spectator at a cage match. Clearly he didn’t think I needed help and I was grateful that he had at least that much respect for me.
“Where do you work?” Lucien asked.
“I do social media,” I said. “Brands pay me to represent them.”
His eyes narrowed. “Have you had access to your phone since meeting Duran?”
Duran shifted in his seat, crossing his legs. “I took her phone the night we met. She hasn’t had it since.”
“Good,” said Lucien. “Don’t give it back to her until we have a chance to discuss. I assume you mean…you model or something along those lines?”
His cold gaze swung back to me. Nailing me to my seat.
“Yes,” I said, shaking back my hair. “I make fine money. And I would like my phone back soon.”
“No,” said Lucien. “It’s a security hazard.”
“Oh…so no women in your millionaires club have phones?”
“None of the women who are married to or fucking men in my inner circle have access to social media,” Lucien said. “And while you are sleeping with my brother, neither will you.”
