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“I’m sure it’s fine.” To me, he says, “You’re going to have to give me a list of all the foods you don’t like so I can keep them off the menu when I’m feeding you.”
“Can’t you just make nice, simple chicken? What’s wrong with chicken?”
Silvan smirks about my plebeian tastebuds but before he has to answer, his father comes back into the room and takes his seat across from me.
“Is everything all right?” Melanie asks, placing her hand on his arm.
He glances over at her and smiles faintly. “Yes, sweetheart. Everything’s fine.” He leans over to give her a kiss, then grabs his silverware and cuts into his salmon.
His word is her gospel, apparently, so Melanie’s worry eases, and she goes back to enjoying her meal.
We don’t have coffee tonight, but we do have water goblets and a pitcher of water kept on the table for refills. When Melanie notices her husband’s has emptied, she puts down her fork and stands to grab the pitcher and refill his glass.
It reminds me to check on Silvan’s. I’m horrified a moment after I’ve had the impulse, but I can’t shake the sense that I need to earn brownie points with Silvan’s dad, either, so when Melanie puts the pitcher down, I grab it so I can refill Silvan’s cup.
The action certainly grabs his father’s attention. I feel his gaze on me, but I don’t look back at him as I put the pitcher down and take my seat.
“You seem to be a fast learner,” he remarks. His gaze drops to my plate, and his eyebrows rise. “You also seem to be quite hungry tonight.”
I lick my lips, unsure what to say.
Good thing I didn’t lie because his gaze drifts to Silvan’s plate next, and he smirks when he sees he has two pieces of salmon.
“Don’t have the heart to eat a dead fish, either?” he asks with mocking solemnity.
I tip my chin up and grab my fork and knife so I can cut into the tender glazed carrot. “I don’t enjoy the texture of salmon.”
I don’t enjoyhim, either. I’m glad I only have one more course to get through before I hopefully never have to see him again.
When the last plate is cleared, it feels like the end of my stay. I tell Silvan I’m going to run upstairs to grab my things, and he says he’ll let Hugh know I’m ready for a ride home.
“Why don’t you stay for a bit longer?” Richard suggests, but it’s not really a suggestion.
Silvan frowns at the command, and his gaze flickers to me.
“I should really be going,” I say a touch awkwardly.
“You’ll stay for a drink first,” he says, and that’s the end of the debate.
I was nervous about Silvan possibly dragging his feet about me leaving, but I wasn’t prepared for his father to do it.
Silvan nods toward the stairs. “Go up and get your things. You can meet us in Dad’s study. One drink, then she really has to go home.”
It makes me even more uneasy that Silvan is suddenly pushing me out the door. I know it’s not because hewantsme to go. I think it’s because his father doesn’t, and for Silvan to be uneasy about it makes me think I’m right to be as well.
A memory of the call at dinner resurfaces.
I don’t know what to make of any of it because I don’tknowthese people. Silvan won’t even give me the bare minimum of details about them.
I need to google them when I get home.
Although, I suppose if they are into shady dealings and none of them are in jail, Google probably won’t know about it.
I go upstairs alone, my heart beating a little too hard.
I think about sneaking out.
On the one hand, it feels silly to have stayed the whole weekend just to sneak out and beg someone for a ride home moments before they’re sending a car to pick me up.
