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Dee reaches up, her fingers skimming the silverware. I reach out to her, only brushing her skin momentarily before she pulls away immediately. She feels… cold. Chilled right to the bone.
“You okay?” I ask on the quietest breath. There are many questions I want to ask right now. This one will have to do for starters. It’s the most important.
“She’s perfectly fine. Strong little girl I have.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Reyes. But I was asking her.” I don’t take my eyes off her but she never meets my gaze. Her hands folded in her lap seem to be the only thing she can bother to look at.
“Reed. Look at me.” His booming words are firm, demanding.
Reluctantly, I tear my eyes away and meet his gaze. He’s right. She does have his eyes. Is she really his daughter or is this some sick and twisted game he’s playing?
“She. Is. Fine. If you disrupt our meal one more time, I won’t ever see you again, Reed.” He raises his eyebrows ever so slightly.
That threat tacked on at the end, that’s a threat I could easily hear Knox say.
And I know without a doubt that he’d say it with total deadly confidence.
Just like Ronan does right now.
“Okay.” I bring my hand back to my plate and begin pushing my food around my plate. I’ll play along, pretend like it isn’t blatantly obvious that nothing about her is okay.
For now.
Knox still hasn’t opened his eyes. Next to me Landon stands leaning over the table. His movements are quick but nervous. His hands have the slightest tremble as he picks up Dee’s plate and piles food on it. He sets it back down in front of her.
“Eat, Dee,” Landon says. His eyes somewhere beyond urgency in the way he searches Dee for answers.
Mr. Reyes narrows his gaze. “They’ll eat when they are hungry. They won’t starve themselves. Obviously my children are a bit, dare I say, dramatic.”
Wonder who they could have possibly gotten that from? God, he is such a pompous bastard. I’ve just never realized how cruel he is until this moment.
The food I’m brushing back and forth along my plate no longer has an appeal. Every bite tastes stale or bitter, but I eat it slowly. Compelled only by the need to make sure Mr. Reyes notices no shred of doubt in my mind.
Silence falls over the meal, making us all shift uncomfortably. Except Knox and Dee, who sit motionless and pale as the perfectly white sheets the maids keep on the beds. I take comfort in the fact that a meal can only last so long. Food has to run out eventually.
Eat faster.
I shovel in another large bite.
I try to focus on something, anything. The glowing crystals of the chandelier overhead. The empty seats on the other end of the table. That mirrored credenza against the wall topped with glass jars holding brownies, cookies, and other desserts. A large open bottle of red wine sits by Mr. Reyes. The contents of his glass swish around before he takes a careful sip. The delicate way he drinks alcohol makes me insane.
I want to open the bottle and chug its contents dry. The small wish for a drunken moment that could take away the concerns that have my shoulders pulled back tight.
I hate this shit.
Ringing consumes my mind. An angry bold ringing that drowns out the bombarding thoughts. Is this what my mother feels? Why she drowns herself in wine every night?
Escape. Sometimes it feels like I need an escape for the confusing anxious thoughts.
But it’s never felt like this before.
This, all of this feels wrong.
Footsteps approach and Mr. Heethers leans down to whisper to Mr. Reyes. Mr. Reyes nods, taking the time to pick up his napkin and carefully wipe his mouth. His attention rolls lazily over each of us before he stands.
The ringing subsides.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right back.”
