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“Soy sauce! Too much sodium. Is – I can just eat a plum. Perhaps there is some quinoa?”
The look he gives me makes me think I’ve broken a rule I have not been told about.
As I watch Cam line up egg rolls on the cooking sheet, the microwave rotates the glass dish, the scent of Italian spices and cooked cheese filtering into the air. It smells so good I wish I had a spoon to eat the air.
With deft hands, Cam puts the egg rolls in the small oven and sets a timer. The heating element lights up, and the egg rolls begin to heat.
“Fuck your nutrition,” he says.
“Excuse me?”
“Fuck. Your. Nutrition. I told you there aren’t any rules here. Eat what you want. Drink what you want.” From the cabinet, he extracts an espresso in a clear little mug. “Have a coffee. Eat ice cream. Be human.”
“I am human!”
“Be as imperfect as you want, Paigelynn. You aren’t beholden to the masters anymore.”
“I am only three days away from turning twenty-five. Somewhere, there is a man who is my husband, waiting for me. You – you say you are not my husband, yet you wear his mark. Why?”
The microwave dings. He holds up one finger, finds a fork in a drawer, then goes to the microwave, poking around. Soon, Cam sets the timer for three more minutes and returns to our conversation.
I walk to the fridge and extract a plum from the crisper drawer, washing it in the sink, holding my head over the sink as I bite into it.
“How is it?” he asks.
“Perfect. Ripe and sweet, yet there’s a firmness to the flesh.”
His eyes roam over my body.
CHAPTERTWELVE
Cam
She’s killing me.
Holding her in my lap like that made me want to keep her safe with me forever. Block out the world above us and just live here, happy and together. While her pain is enormous and I can’t take it away, the conversation with Debbie haunts me.
Paigelynn and I are here in this safe place because of that third billionaire family. The one Debbie doesn’t know about. The Luisis and the Donegals know about the Javics, but they don’t know I’m aligned with them.
And now I’m wondering if Debbie’s right.
What if one of the billionaire families learned that Paigelynn is useless to them genetically? And decided to add a spoiler to the whole auction by killing her off so no one gets her?
No one benefits?
It’s a bold move. Deceptive. Sabotage at its finest because these families have spent nine figures on this entire scheme, and success is just starting.
Barely.
Paigelynn and the two others Debbie’s zeroing in on aren’t first pancakes, but they’re part of the first few crops.
Here I am feeding one of their meat bags some lasagna and egg rolls, followed by ice cream bars. Hmmm.
Maybe wine next? Time to teach Paigelynn about the wonders of alcohol.
Truth be told, I’m not sure what the fuck I’m doing. We’re here because of a non-player, someone with no direct stake in what “the masters” are doing with the Viking Virgins. Paul Saari has been my point man on this, giving me free rein here at his bunker, full availability of confidential staff, and protection.
Protection that relies on some favor he’ll call in eventually. One that doesn’t involve organ trafficking.
