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My gaze went to Christopher, finding him suitably bashful under this mother figure’s firm gaze and barely-concealed plea for him to settle down and bring a woman into his house.
“He is rather old not to be married, right, Cora?” I asked, always enjoying piling on.
To that, one of those perfect brows of his lifted slowly. Whether he was amused or angry was anyone’s guess.
“Yes. I have been saying this. It is time. Too much work. Not enough family,” Cora agreed, pouring both of us small cups of strong coffee.
Christopher grabbed it, moving to stand, starting to walk away.
“Hey! How come you get to get away with only one course?” I asked, shooting small eyes at him as he turned back, lips curved up.
“Because I give Adonis a run for his money,” he informed me. And, well, there was no arguing with that, was there? “Cora, you know… some of her ribs show,” he told her in a grave voice, getting a look of outrage from Cora.
“You’ll pay for that,” I promised him, getting nothing but a smirk in return.
“I’ll make a big lunch,” Cora told me, nodding. “I will go to the market now. Then I will make a big lunch.”
“A big lunch? Cora, it is already ten.” There was no way I was going to be able to eat a big lunch in two hours. “I won’t be hungry.”
“You’ll eat. You’ll eat. Maybe, if you are not busy with Christopher, you help. I show you how to make good, Greek food. You and Christopher. Do you have plans?”
“We have a… call. But later. This evening, I think.” I should have gotten a time from him. Though it wasn’t like he wouldn’t be able to find me when he needed to.
“Good. So you have time. We’ll cook. You’ll tell me about your life. Your family. Then you’ll eat. I have to get going,” she said, making her way toward the back door. “Finish,” she added, giving me a firm look as I poked at my salad.
I contemplated hiding the rest of it under something in the garbage, but had this irrational feeling that she would know exactly what I was up to.
So I shoveled the food into my body until my stomach ached. I washed my dishes. I watched TV. Then I went back to my room to look through the rest of the contents of the boxes and bags. And finding enough clothing to last two weeks. If not more.
Two weeks.
Sure, yes, negotiations could sometimes go that long. But this was not an overly complicated case. I had a feeling an agreement could be achieved somewhat easily. I certainly didn’t think it would take two weeks.
Maybe Christopher Adamos was the sort of man who over-prepared for everything. But if he was going to over-prepare, couldn’t he have at least thrown in one casual outfit?
Don’t get me wrong, badass job aside, I liked girly stuff as much as the next woman. My luggage for my trips always included full face makeup, perfume, hair products and stylers, and way, way more shoes than was necessary.
But even I could accept that very little in life felt as nice as a good, comfortable, lounging around outfit.
Eventually, tired of waiting for Cora to return, I ventured outside where I was promptly ignored by all of the guards there.
“Did Mr. Adamos say when he was going to be back?” I asked the tall, strong man sweltering in a suit in the sun by the garden gate. “Do you speak English?” I asked, trying to catch his gaze which he seemed to pointedly be keeping off of me. Which wasn’t very, you know, guardly. “Mr. Adamos,” I said, enunciating carefully as I lifted my arm, tapping the invisible watch on my wrist. “Home?”
“He said he’d be home at three,” the guard told me, making me immediately feel foolish for pantomiming, and also a little bad for assuming he didn’t speak English.
“Oh. I, ah, you didn’t answer me the first time.”
“We have orders,” he said, gaze out over the ocean, down the steps, anywhere but on me.
“You have orders. Not to speak to me? Or to look at me?” I added.
“Yes.”
“But why?” To that, I got no answer. “Are you allowed to talk to guests normally? I asked, brows lowering a bit when he gave me a small nod as an answer. “So this is a weird order?” To that, another nod. “Am I allowed to leave?” I asked. His gaze slid to mine for a short second, just long enough to shake his head, then move away again. “Were you the one to get me the clothes?” I asked, already knowing the answer, but wanting confirmation. I got the head shake. “Did Mr. Adamos do it himself?” A nod. “Is that strange?”
“I don’t know if Mr. Adamos has ever seen the inside of a store before,” the guard informed me, a small hint of humor in his voice.
