With This Ring (To Have And To Hold Duet #1) - Natasha Knight Page 0,19
something then. “Are my brother’s bodies still down there?”
“You care?” He meets my eyes.
“Not about them. I just…with Noah down there...”
“Don’t coddle the boy.” He walks back toward the dining room. “Were you involved in the business? I wouldn’t think your father would have allowed it.”
“My father didn’t allow it,” I start, following him into the dining room where our dinner plates have been cleared and dessert and coffee are laid out. It’s something different than the chocolate cake I had earlier.
He gestures for me to sit, then grabs a bottle of whiskey from the side table before taking his seat. Same as upstairs, it’s the brand my dad preferred.
He pours two fingers of whiskey and must think I want some, but I shake my head.
He leans back and drinks a sip, watching me.
“And my father wasn’t in charge for the last ten years, remember,” I add on.
I shift my gaze to the cake.
He gestures for me to go ahead.
“Can I take a piece to Noah? I’m not sure how much you fed—”
“Your brother is fine. Eat.”
“Then I’m fine too.”
He rolls his eyes. “Eat and I’ll send a piece down to him.” I’m confused by this but then he swallows what’s left in his glass and focuses on pouring more.
“Aren’t you going to eat any?”
He shakes his head. “Don’t worry, it’s not poisoned if that’s what you’re thinking.”
I hadn’t thought of that. Should I be thinking of that? No. If he wants me dead, he can do it much more easily than going to the trouble of baking me a poisoned cake. I help myself to dessert as he watches me.
“You’re too skinny. I like a little more meat on my women.”
“I’m not your woman. I’m not even a guest. I’m your captive, remember?”
“Don’t want to break you in half when I fu—”
“Okay, that’s enough,” I start but when I look at him, he’s got a grin on his face. “You’re messing with me.”
“You’re easy to mess with.”
Well, I can’t argue that. I take things too literally, too much at face value. Always have. My parents would say it’s because I have an innocent mind. I would swap out innocent for naïve if I’m being kind. Stupid if I’m not.
It’s quiet as I take a few bites of the generously frosted cake, although I don’t really want more. I’m just not sure I’m ready for what comes next.
“Why do you care so much about this brother when you don’t seem to care about the others? They were executed before your eyes and you didn’t flinch.”
I struggle to swallow the mouthful of cake and set my fork down. I’m thinking about how to answer, wondering what he must think that I can watch my brothers killed without emotion. Hell, what does that make me?
“Noah’s just a kid,” I say.
“It’s more than that.”
“He’s different than Diego and Angel were. He’s softer. Not mean or cruel like them.”
“You hated them.”
It’s not really a question so I don’t answer.
“What did they do to you to make you hate them?”
“Well, for starters they killed my mom and dad.” I try to hide any emotion, but I feel it in my words. I’m also sure it shows on my face.
He searches my eyes. “But what did they do to you?” he asks, leaning in closer. His eyes are so intense and as blue as that vast sea was this afternoon.
I turn to look over my shoulder at the painting of his mother on the far wall. Electric blue eyes. Like his. When I turn back to him, I see that his gaze has followed mine and there’s something sad in it. Something broken.
“You have her eyes,” I say before I can stop myself.
For the briefest of moments, I see surprise on his face. He’s quick to school his features and shift the conversation away from himself. “Are you embarrassed to say?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do.”
I shift my gaze slightly so I’m looking at his forehead, not into his eyes. He’s too intense. Too focused.
“No.” But I feel my skin get clammy. It’s the truth. I’m not embarrassed. I am ashamed. There is a difference. A big one.
He narrows his eyes and studies me like he’s considering whether or not to pursue this. There’s nothing to pursue. He’s not a friend. Not a confidante. He is my jailor. I will not tell him more.
“All right,” he says like he’s finished with it, but I get the feeling he’s not.