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Still, I hesitate. My parents instilled that into me; I don’t tend to eat until everyone’s here.
But it smells so good, and my stomach’s grumbling again.
I cut a little piece and bring it to my mouth.
“Oh god,” I moan.
It’s even better than the wine.
I must have blocked that part of my old life from my mind. The food. The drinks. The sheer decadence of eating gourmet delicacies every day.
Honestly, Mom made a point of cooking simple dishes half the time, just so we wouldn’t lose sight of normal back then.
“What even is this?”
The servant puffs out his chest proudly. “Lobster mousse on a bed of wild mushrooms, with a blackberry reduction and lime crumbs, miss.”
Of course it is. I eat it all in three mouthfuls, because it’s tiny and far too good to be reasonable. I’ve just finished when Alessandro reappears, flanked by a man a little shorter than him, a couple of years older maybe, with a deep complexion and intricate tattoos flirting at the edge of his neck and wrists under his pristine shirt. A vision of tall, dark, and dangerous.
I have to wonder if they pick employees based on a beauty contest.
Francesco—I assume—nods once towards us, and doesn’t say a word, moving toward a seat next to Caden.
“I trust no murderer is attempting to make their way to us in this storm,” Hux drawls.
Francesco shoots him an icy glare. “One can never be too careful. Especially with charges who don’t need any help to get themselves in danger.”
Less chuckles. “It went fine, Ciccio.”
“You should have let me go get them. It’s myjob,” he grits between his teeth, his glare now sliding to me.
Okay, then.
“No,” Less retorts firmly. “It’s mine. Now if you can’t say anything of note, why don’t you stuff your face with food instead?”
Ciccio shoots him the bird, the informal relationship between those two surprising me.
If memory serves, Less used to more or less ignore his guards. I guess these two are closer in age.
“Did you call the lovebirds?” Caden asks.
Less winces. “They were otherwise engaged. Let’s eat. I’m sure they’ll eventually emerge. They’re working up an appetite.”
Ugh. It’s so very awkward to speak about my little sister getting some, though it seems to be common knowledge, and not something Nic is opposed to.
Less returns to his seat, and my body immediately stiffens, the air in the room thinning by his proximity.
He has far too much of a hold on me, still. Distance, time, none of that matters. He’s still firmly implanted in my body, my mind.
And for my wellbeing, I need to expel him from both.
TWENTY-ONE
Ivy
We’re at the fifth of I don’t know how many courses, each tiny and delicious, when Bella and Sebastian rejoin us. My sister changed from her warm clothes into a pretty black dress that reaches her knees. She’s glowing, clearly happy. And I tell myself to stop being an idiot. If that guy makes her look that delighted, and she’s not actually cheating—given her fiancé’s knowledge and consent—it’s their business.
“I see we have a lot to catch up on!” Bels say, noting the many plates in front of each of their seats. “You’ve had a bit of a feast prepared.”
