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I was saved by the serving staff making a dramatic entrance into the dining hall, each one pushing a silver cart piled high with beautiful dishes of food and a bottle of nonalcoholic wine.
I craved something stronger and another cigarette.
“Finally, I thought we would have to sit here for hours making awkward small talk,” Rome said, leaning in towards me. He paused and added, “You smell like smoke. Have you been smoking?”
“No, maybe. Why?” I asked and turned to look at him. I was immediately hit with a gut-wrenching sensation of looking at a dead man. The sense of loss I had over him was palpable, to the point that I could taste the salty tears I’d cried over his coffin.
But he was here in front of me, seemingly not anybody I loved deeply enough to tear her world apart because of his passing. Why did it feel otherwise? Was it a premonition?
“Uppers don’t smoke,” he said and raised a single eyebrow quizzically. “That’s something for the Lowers. Your coma didn’t spin you downwards into their gauche lifestyle, did it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it did,” I replied. “Or maybe I was always there and pretending all along.”
“With your family money? Not likely,” he snorted. My stomach clenched at how incredibly gorgeous he was, making even the slightest expression with his stunning face. “I’m certain dear father Avalon would have rather cut his own legs off than allow his only child to play with the Lowers.”
“I’m surefatherdoesn’t need to know what I’m up to,” I said, deliberately sending him the message to shut the fuck up.
“I’m sure nobody needs to know, princess,” he said, leaning closer. He was so close that his breath caught in the curved shell of my ear and heated it up as he spoke. I fought the urge to shiver at the sensation. “In fact, nobody needs to know that you’re a different person now.”
I started, pulled back, and said, “It’s the coma. I’m just not feeling myself since waking up.”
“I’m sure you’re not,” he said, and he offered a smirk that melted my insides. “I’d love to find out who you are, though.”
“What are you two talking about?” Alexander demanded. “I can see your heads together. Are you plotting something? Perhaps something against me?”
“Of course not,” I replied and stayed up straight, away from Rome. “He was simply telling me how much he admired you. And how lucky I am to have you.”
I offered a small smile to distract him, and it seemed to work. He grinned and said, “Of course. Good old Roman would know where to tread lightly and where to stay away all together.”
The serving staff arrived at our table just then, saving me any more explanations, and I breathed a sigh of relief. They piled dishes in front of us. Of course, the men got more than us women, but the food was just as decadent and rich.
“Thank god Alexander’s father came up with nutritious, healthy food and didn’t add any fat to our poor, frail human bodies,” Victoria said and began to vigorously cut into a bloody steak. “Otherwise, I’d be stuck eating lettuce crisps and drinking water.”
“To Mister Remington,” Rome said, holding up a glass of bubbling fake wine after the servers had poured us each a glass. “Without his inventions, our lives would be irrefutably more difficult.”
I held my glass up with the rest of the table but had no idea what my future father-in-law had invented or how I would get out of becoming his daughter-in-law.
That was paramount, other than trying to unravel who I was. Breaking it off with Alexander without destroying his heart and rattling too many cage bars around Crimson Academy.
I cut into my steak and nibbled on a piece, but it was too bloody and too rich for my liking. After just two bites, I began to feel nauseous and had to put down my fork.
“Is that it for you?” Alexander asked beside me. “You look better without the extra weight, but you must remember I don’t want you too skinny. I want something to grab onto for our wedding night.”
“I don’t feel well,” I replied and nudged the slimy-looking potatoes with the tip of my fork. “And I don’t really like the food.”
“This is your favorite dish,” Alexander exclaimed. “This is exactly why I ordered the kitchen to cook it tonight. You loved prime rib and mashed potatoes with gravy. What happened?”
“Nothing happened,” I replied. “Maybe it’s the medication. I just don’t feel that great. I should go lay down again.”
“Keep your ass right here next to me, my love,” Alexander said in a low tone that let me know he wouldn’t let me off the hook that easily. “You can sit by my side through dinner. We need to present a united front. It’s important for the Remington name.”
I nodded and continued to pick at my meal while listening to the inane conversation around me. I spent some time scanning the other tables in the dining hall, looking for anything that struck me as familiar.
Nothing did, though, and with each face, my eyes grazed over, I became more and more convinced that there was something deeply wrong with me.
Until I hit one at the back of the hall, somewhat in the shadows and partially covered by a thatch of thick, dirty blond hair spilling over his eye.
He brushed his hand through it and leaned back, laughed at something somebody said, and suddenly found me looking at him.
