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Of course, there are guards at every entrance, and I’m sure, cameras everywhere.
We enter a formal dining room with a long mahogany table surrounded by seating for ten. The smell of something delicious makes my stomach growl again.
“Sit,” he directs, leading me to a chair at the end of the table.
He takes the seat right next to me. And when I say right next to me, I mean right next to me. His thigh brushes mine. “I hope you still like Beef Wellington,” he drawls out.
My mouth waters. I'm a little ashamed that my body is so concerned about food under the circumstances.
Krista sets two white plates in front of us, overloaded with Beef Wellington and a white mountain of creamy mashed potatoes. But... there is only one set of cutlery.
His hand reaches it before mine, and he gives a short laugh. “You don’t think I’d give you silverware you could use as a weapon against me, do you?”
Damn it. What a brilliant idea. I suck at escaping, because that thought never crossed my mind; I just wanted to dig in. “Well how am I supposed to eat this?”
“I’ll feed you,” he answers, cutting into the food on my plate.
When he brings the fork to my lips, I almost don’t want to open for him out of pure defiance. But, whore for Beef Wellington that I am, I open wide.
My moan is audible when the tender filet hits my tongue. Briefly, his eyes fall to my mouth before he looks away and takes his turn.
“You don't think it's a little gross we’re eating from the same fork?” Now that I know I could possibly use the utensils as a weapon, I decide to pull from my vault of memories and remind Xavier of his aversion to eat or drink after anyone when we were younger.
The fork tines, supporting a hefty dollop of mashed potatoes, stop at his full lips and then he slides it in. “Nope.”
I nod. “Ok, well I just remember you saying stuff about germs.” I smooth the napkin in my lap. “I just recently got over a really nasty cold.”
He loads up the fork and moves it back to me. “I’ll take my chances.”
“This is crazy,” I tell him, before accepting the offered bite. “I'm not going to fork you to death.”
“Just eat.”
The rest of the meal is finished in silence, and for the next few days, the routine remains the same: breakfast together, lunch in my room alone, and then dinner, where he feeds me like the child he’s always seen me as.
My disdain for the new Xavier grows as the words between us lessen. He barely even looks at me.
One night, after dinner, my anger and resentment hit an all time high when he holds my arm on the walk back to my room. I wiggle free.
“You don’t have to hold onto me. I’m clearly not going anywhere,” I spit out.
“I’ll do whatever I damn well please.”
He opens the door to my room, and I step over the threshold, facing him. “I hate you for leaving.” I slam the door shut in his handsome face, and the lock clicks loudly against the silence in the air.
He pounds his fist into the hard wood, shaking it on its hinges. “I hate you for staying,” he shouts.
Chapter 13
Rhiannon
“Rhiannon,” Xavier says, when he enters my room a few days later. Since he didn’t say hello, I don’t feel the need to acknowledge him.
I sit on the bed, my long hair hanging like a curtain to hide his face from me as I scribble on another card.
“Get up.”
“Why?” I glance at him.
