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Putting a hand on my hip and guiding me toward a red leather chair, he says, “Later. Right now, let’s get this drink and get you out of here.”
“Melanie, fetch Sophie a drink.”
As I take my seat, my gaze flickers to Silvan’s mom on her way over to the alcohol cart.
Something about him specifying the drink she’s getting is for me—paired with my existing paranoia about him—doesn’t sit right with me. “Actually, I’m not thirsty. I’ll hang out while you guys drink, though.”
“You sure?” his dad asks, watching me. “I’ve got the good stuff.”
I shake my head. “Thank you anyway.”
His mom comes back with two glasses and gives one to her husband and one to Silvan, then she sits down on her husband’s lap as if without thought.
He keeps his gaze trained on me as he settles his wife on his lap. I lick my lips, wishing I had that drink, but also glad I turned it down. I think Silvan’s mom is super sweet and unlikely to poison me, but I also think if her not at all sweet husband told her to do something, she’d do it with no questions asked.
Seeming to understand I was afraid of being drugged, Silvan takes a single sip of his drink, then passes it to me.
“Thank you,” I murmur, taking a greedy sip. The breath is sucked from my lungs as I swallow. It burns like hell all the way down my throat.
I don’t know what it is, but damn, it is strong.
Maybe they didn’t have to drug me. One glass of this and I’ll be on my ass.
I hand the glass back to Silvan.
I need to keep a clear head.
“How was your weekend?” Richard asks me.
It feels like a trick, so I keep my answer concise. “Good.”
“Did my son kidnap you?”
My heart stops. He asks it so casually, and I don’t know what to say. I’m the one who originally said he did…
I don’t know what answer he’s expecting, so I hedge my bets. “Kind of…”
“It’s a yes or no question, Sophie.”
My heart skitters and my palms start to sweat. I don’t know if he wants me to lie or tell the truth. “Well, yes. Yes, he did.”
“How?”
I glance over at Silvan, unsure how much I should share.
Silvan’s frowning, but he nods and I take it to mean I can tell him.
“Um… He…”
I stop, though, because I don’twantto.
I’m afraid of getting him in trouble. What parent would be fine with his son breaking into a professor’s house and doing all the stuff Silvan did to me?
Then again, what parent co-hosts a kidnapping for their son?
I don’t understand this family at all.
“He used some stuff to blackmail me,” I answer vaguely.
