I open the refrigerator to see what they have. Finding bottled water, I take two, tucking both under my arm, and then see a plate with the makings for a sandwich. I just need to find some bread.
I swallow the bite of muffin and close the refrigerator with my hands full. But when the door closes and I see who is standing just on the other side of it, I gasp, jumping in surprise. The bottles slip from under my arm and some of the things on the plate tip onto the floor.
Lucas catches the edge of the dish before it, too, goes crashing down.
The bite of muffin sticks in my throat as I stare back at Lucas Di Santo standing in the kitchen holding the plate of lunch meat and looking strangely amused.
“I…” I start but trail off. What am I supposed to say? I what?
He sets the plate down and bends to pick up the food that fell off, tossing it into a trash can in the corner. He then picks up the bottles of water and holds them out to me.
“Take them,” he says when I don’t move.
I reach out, then remember the muffin in my hand. I’ve crushed it.
“Those are good,” he says.
I just stare at him like an idiot.
“Let me guess,” he starts, leaning against the wall and folding his arms across his chest. “My brother demands you eat with him, or you don’t eat, is that right?”
“How do you know that?”
He shrugs a shoulder. “It seems like something Damian would do.” He turns, opens a drawer and takes out a loaf of bread. “Here. It’s fresh, baked this morning. Dishes are up there and utensils in this drawer.”
When I still don’t move, he raises an eyebrow.
“I don’t bite, you know.”
“But you do kiss.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “I couldn’t help myself. You’re beautiful, of course, and honestly, I knew it would piss my brother off.”
“You have a strange family.”
“I agree. Make your sandwich.” He gets a plate down for me and steps back, gesturing for me to go ahead.
I keep an eye on him as I set the remnants of my muffin on the plate and make a sandwich.
“Take your time. He’s not here.”
“I’m not worried about Damian.”
“No?”
“No.” It’s a lie but I hold on to it. “Where is he then?”
“Meeting. My guess is he’ll be back late in the afternoon.”
“Is there some aspirin?”
He opens another cabinet, pushes a few things aside as he looks through it. He selects a bottle and holds it out to me. When I don’t reach for it, his expression changes and at first, it’s hard to read because it’s not what I expect. Lucas looks almost resigned.
He puts the bottle on the counter, gives a small, sad smile then steps backward.
“Monsters most often don’t look like monsters on the outside, you know.”
I feel like a jerk.
I force myself to stand there and look at him. Really look at him. It’s so strange, the beautiful side of his face, then the other side. He smiles at me and it’s not monstrous. Not at all.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m not being very nice and you’re trying to help me.”
He shrugs a shoulder. “I’m used to it.”
“That doesn’t excuse it.”
“Do you mind if I join you?” he asks, taking out another plate.
“That’s fine.”
He smiles again and gestures to the table. I take a seat and set one of the bottles of water in the spot across from mine. When he comes over with his sandwich, he twists the lid off, and hands it to me before doing the same with the second bottle and taking a sip.
“Eat,” he says.
I pick up my sandwich and bite into it. He takes a bite of his.
“I’d just had a strange dream the other night, so when I walked into your room, I didn’t know it was your room,” I start, feeling like I need to explain. “With the music and the rain, and honestly everything that was happening, I was spooked. I guess I thought you were a ghost.”
“I did come back like one. I’m sorry I scared you.”
We eat in silence for a few minutes. It’s awkward, but I don’t know what to say. Every time I look up, I find him watching me. I can’t tell if the feeling of unease is because of how he looks or just the way he’s watching me. It’s not right though. I have to remember that he can’t help how he looks.
“Have you been gone a long time?” I finally ask.
He nods. “Since my little sister died.”
“Annabel.”
“That’s right.”
“That must have been awful.”
“No more awful than what you experienced, I’m sure.”
I don’t know what to say. He’s so different than I expected. So different than Damian. Compassionate.
“Can I ask you why you left?” I ask.
He points at his face. “This was worse, believe it or not. And I was in a lot of pain both physically and emotionally. When she passed away, there was no reason for me to stay.”
“Why come back then?”
“Good question.” He finishes the last of his sandwich, watching me so intently it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Something flickers in his eyes. Something dark. That unease of moments ago is back, not that it had ever left, but now it makes my belly tighten. It’s the feeling I had that first night in his room. It’s gone as soon as it comes, but when he answers me, his tone is different. “You really want to know?”
“Yes,” I say even though something tells me that no, I don’t want to know.
But it’s too late. The word is out. And his are on their way.
“To take back what my brother took from me.”
A shiver runs along my spine. I hear the malice in his words even though he says it with a smile on his face. A smile so much like Damian’s but not.
“Don’t you want to ask me what that means for you?”
I feel sick suddenly. Like the food in my belly has turned to rock. I put the rest of my sandwich down.
“No,” I say, pushing my plate away.
“Are you finished?” he asks, gesturing to my sandwich.
I nod.
He reaches over and takes it, eating it greedily as he watches me, all teeth now. And all I want to do is run out of here. Run away from him.
I put my hand in my pocket, feeling the knife there. At least I have that. If he does anything, I’ll stab him. I won’t hesitate.
“Are you all right?” he asks when he’s done eating my sandwich, that wickedness gone again like it’s a switch he flips on or off at will.
I nod. I can’t speak.
He pushes his chair back loudly, gets to his feet and rubs his belly, contented.
“Good. Don’t worry, I won’t tell my brother about our lunch.” He winks like we’re in on this thing together. “I’ll see you later, Cristina.” He says, walking to the door. He opens it to leave, but stops, and turns back to me. “One more thing. If he hurts you, you can always come to me. You have an ally in me.”
I don’t reply.
He walks out of the kitchen.
All I can think is how they all tell me they’re my allies when I know in reality they’re nothing but my enemies.