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Ricky would die for this closet. He's a fashion major and has always dressed to express himself, something I never understood. I prefer comfort. I never really wanted to stand out, so I dressed accordingly. Except now, since it is damn near impossible to do so. The clothes feel new, which is confusing. I brush my hair in the vanity mirror and try not to let my thoughts wander about who this bedroom belongs or belonged to. My stomach rumbles in hunger and I sigh.
I've managed to escape for about three hours now. The stress and discomfort that walks the halls outside of this room are already giving me a headache and I haven't even left the room yet. I find an antique, wooden clock on the table by the fireplace, and it reads just after three in the afternoon.
I shut off the lights and make my way out of the bedroom. When I begin to descend the grand staircase, I realize I haven't been to the east side of this mansion. Curiosity peaks and I begin to wander once I'm on the main floor.
The halls are the same, except the wall color on this side of the house is a deep burgundy instead of red, giving it a much more royal feel. I approach a set of wooden, double doors and look around to make sure no one's behind me. I'm sureEl Oscurowouldn't appreciate me snooping around, but I'm slowly losing my mind.
I push the doors open quietly and enter the room, shutting them slowly behind me before I turn back around.
It's a library, thank God. I wasn't sure if I was going to walk into some torture chamber. Though that doesn't make this room any less intimidating, seeing as how it was a quarter of the size of the library we have on campus.
The bookcases were large and wooden, stopping at the tops of the walls. The ceiling was vaulted and was covered in stained glass. I felt like I was at a cathedral. There must have been at least twenty bookcases, all filled with books. I walked alongside them and stared at the large piano in the corner of the room, next to a fireplace that was lit. A few red and velvet couches were facing it, looking larger than my dorm room bed. I could easily imagine myself curling up on one of them and dozing off with a book, the flames of the fireplace warming me.
I stop walking and notice a hallway between the last bookcase and piano. It is lined with a long black carpet and the walls have tapered candles all the way down. I begin to walk towards it when the doors open and I freeze in place.
Sergio enters and his face holds no emotion, which makes me a little calmer. He stands by the doors and eyes me from afar. I shift on my feet uncomfortably. Is this a forbidden room? Am I only to remain in my bedroom unless I'm under heavy surveillance?
I have a feeling the answer to those questions could be a definite yes, being as I am in fact an untrustworthy hostage in this place. I clear my throat and decide to explain.
"I-I'm sorry if I'm not supposed to be here. I just wanted to see more than the kitchen and the yard."
He offers me a curt nod, his face remaining impassive.
"I understand your curiosity. Javier is asking for your assistance."
I nod my head and begin to walk towards him, looking back at the hallway behind me.
"What's down there?" I point over my shoulder and Sergio frowns.
"The quarters at the end of that hall belong to El Oscuro, by no means should you enter there without him."
He opens the door out of the library and I walk quickly to him, feeling a little embarrassed by my question and curiosity. We walk to the kitchen in silence and Javier greets me with a smile, his kindness warming me.
Sergio nods quickly and exits the kitchen without a word. Last night he seemed cordial, so his coldness today leaves me wondering.
"The meat only has a couple hours left in the oven. Most of the sides are ready to be made. You will help me with this, yes?"
I nod with a smile, picking a knife and chopping some peppers he has laid out on his cutting board.
"I'd like to teach you some tips, if you don't mind?"
"I'd love that. Thank you, Javier."
We busy ourselves for the next few hours. He teaches me things that I would probably have learned in cooking school if I went, but he teaches them with passion. This art brings him as much joy as I've felt my whole life.
He teaches me the quickest way to chop an onion with precision. He teaches me how to cook rice to the perfect texture. How to braise meat and measure with your eyes and not a utensil, something Ricky's mom had done when I was little.
Our conversations are light and leave zero discomfort. I find that I enjoy being around this man. He has no children or wife and was a chef at a high-end restaurant in downtown LA before Dante recruited him many years ago. I don't ask any questions, I let him feed me whatever information he wants and try to listen with ease.
Before I knew it, it was almost seven. The sun had set outside, leaving a dark orange light filtering through the glass windows of the kitchen. Javier sets the serving trays and hands me a dish of warm bread. I follow him into the dining hall and set the table with him. He has me lighting the centerpiece candles as he sets two places with gold plates and silverware. I don't ask who will be joining Dante for dinner.
Just as he finishes setting the plates with succulent meat and rice, Dante enters and dismisses him before taking a seat at his usual place. I stand in silence and stare after Javier as he walks back into the kitchen. I feel Dante eyeing me the entire time and for once my hairs don't stand at this knowledge.
"Sit, Esmeralda."
I allow myself to look at him, his eyes more golden than amber right now. They make me speechless and I look away immediately, walking to my seat and taking a sip of water.
Once I swallow, I break the silence. The heat of his stare is too intense for me to eat.
