Requiem of the Soul (The Society Trilogy #1) - Natasha Knight Page 0,60
that. I’m pretty sure I could hang myself on the end of this rosary that’s nestled against my bare skin. I’ve got it tucked under my sweater, and I’ve only taken it off to shower and sleep.
I know she doesn’t like locking the door. She’s said as much. But it’s what the Master wants.
The Master.
I roll my eyes at his formality. His arrogance.
“Morning, Antonia. Do you know if the car is ready to take me to see my father?” I ask her anxiously. I’m not really hungry, so I ignore the tray she sets down.
“Settle down, Miss. It’s early yet.”
“What time is it? If I had a clock, I’d know.” But my husband won’t even allow me that.
“Ms. Mercedes will be the one taking you to see your father, and she doesn’t rise until noon some days.”
“Noon?”
“Sit down and eat. Santiago wants to be sure you’re fed and so do I. I don’t want you falling down again.”
I sit, slouching, one elbow on the table as she pours me coffee out of a silver pot.
“I’ll tell you what, though. Once you’ve eaten, I’ll take you downstairs and show you around. I don't see the harm in you waiting for Mercedes downstairs.”
I look up at her, hopeful and as excited as a kid at Christmas. It’s ridiculous if I think about it, but I check myself.
“Will you get in trouble if you do that, Antonia?”
“Let me worry about that.”
“Where is he?” I ask as I pick up my cup. I don’t know why I ask, and I don’t know why I care, but I’m surprised he won’t be the one to take me today. Maybe a little disappointed too. Because as much as I hate to admit it and never will, the enigma that is my husband makes me curious. When he’s with me, things feel different. They feel...more. I don’t know how to describe it. I just guess I’ve never really felt so much before. So much anticipation, so much pain, so much pleasure, just so much. It’s confusing and annoying. It should be simple. I should hate him like he hates me.
I shake my head to clear it. The thought of spending any time with Mercedes makes me anxious. I don’t like her. And I don’t trust her.
Antonia makes a point of rearranging the plates on the tray. “He keeps to his own schedule.”
“What does that mean?”
“Oh, nothing, dear.”
“Is he here? In the house?”
“Most times, yes, when he’s not called away on business.”
She walks away to make the bed, which I’ve already made, but she tucks it in tighter. I need to tell him I don’t need a maid, especially this sweet old woman, to make my bed or do my laundry. It’s embarrassing actually.
“I’ll be back for you in twenty minutes, then I’ll take you downstairs. You eat all of that now. He’ll want a report after all,” she mutters that last part as she closes the door behind her.
He’ll want a report? Of what I ate?
Okay, am I really surprised at that? He’s a control freak.
I eat my breakfast, a generous plate of eggs and bacon, fresh fruit and toast along with juice and coffee. I’m not sure I’ve ever eaten as well as I have here the last few days. I’m sure my mom would be shocked to hear the number of calories I consume at breakfast alone.
The thought of mom brings me to thoughts of Evangeline. Is she getting enough to eat? Should I have pushed to see her too? Or asked to see her instead of my father.
I have to stop this, though. One step at a time. I’m getting out of this room today. And out of this house. It’s something.
Once I’m finished, I brush my teeth and I’m just putting on a pair of boots—one of the pairs of new shoes without heels that were delivered yesterday—when I see Antonia at the door.
It’s those things that confuse me about Santiago. In one breath, he tells me he wants me dead. In his eyes, I sometimes glimpse his hate. Then he buys me shoes so I don’t break my neck on the heels when he finds out about my disorder.
I shake my head.
No. He's not doing any of this for me. He just wants to be the one to torment me. To murder me maybe. It wouldn’t do if I were to have an accidental fall.
“Ready?” Antonia asks, stepping aside and gesturing to the hallway.