15. Making conversation
FIFTEEN
MAKING CONVERSATION
TROY
Most Europeans eat a big lunch and a small dinner, whereas in the US, most of us eat our largest meal between five and eight in the evening. When I show up at the door of the dining room, Shark and Alessio are already seated. Alessio’s sipping wine and talking quietly while Shark listens attentively, his face illuminated by the natural light piercing the sheer curtains that cover the large window.
I pause at the door so I’m not intruding, which also gives me time to admire the space. Valerina will serve the lunch in the formal dining room, which boasts a drop-dead gorgeous chandelier made of crystals that reflect the sunlight. The table seats at least eighteen people, and with Alessio on one end of it wearing a suit, along with Shark dressed in a crisp white button-up shirt, I feel like the table is set for royals.
I’m no royal, that’s for damn sure, but I can’t help but feel a little bit like a princess wearing a pink dress and a pink bow in my hair. This is what Valerina had Alessio bring me when he came over earlier, so this is what I wore.
A horn from a boat docking at the marina outside draws my attention. The stunning view of the open sea beyond the marina complements the luxurious interior of the dining space. I’ve never dined like this before, and I’m looking forward to it.
In addition, this part of the house is pleasantly air-conditioned and not as freezing as the guest house. I had to turn it down before leaving. I want to linger by the door longer, but Valerina walks in from the front of the house carrying a massive tray piled with plates of meat, potatoes, and vegetables.
“Let me help you.” I rush toward her, but Alessio and Shark stand quickly, making me freeze in place, making me feel like I did something wrong. Reflexively, I open my mouth to apologize when Alessio takes the tray from his sister with a disproving head shake. “Next time, you’ll call me to carry it.” He places the tray on the table. “Same goes for you,” he tells me and follows his sister back into the kitchen.
Shark stands and offers me his chair. “This is the best seat at the table.”
“Then you should have it.”
Alessio returns with a salad bowl, which he puts on the table, and Valerina is bringing in smaller plates. Once the table looks set, Valerina says, “Oh my God, that shade of pink looks so good on you.”
She’s nice. “Thanks for letting me borrow your dress.”
“You must keep it, and we must buy more like it.” I paired the pink dress with a pale blue silk belt that I tied above my belly. I found new flip-flops in the closet because Valerina and I don’t wear the same shoe size. The flip-flops allowed that extra space for my feet, which have been swelling lately.
I used to wear cowboy boots and even a cowboy hat occasionally, but I’m not sure I’ll ever get that sassy old Troy back. Maybe I’m afraid to have her back because I fear what would happen to all the coping mechanisms I developed over the time I spent in captivity. My old shoes can’t carry the weight of all that I’ve endured.
Old girl Troy is just as dead as her music.
“Have a seat,” Valerina says, and I notice that Alessio’s moved to sit next to her and across from Shark.
I sit in Shark’s old spot now across from Valerina, the marina behind her giving her a pretty blue aura as she smiles.
“I hope you’re hungry.” Valerina waves her hand over the dishes. “Our chef came in when he heard we’re having guests. Help yourself, please.”
When I don’t move, Shark takes my plate.
“Most of our staff was able to come in today,” Valerina says. “Thankfully. Because I didn’t know what kind of meat you liked, so the chef made everything,” Valerina says. “Chicken, beef, pork, and fish, but the fish isn’t grilled like the rest. It’s this one.” She points at a plate that looks like a dip of some sort. “Done with spices and glazed onion sauce.”
“Meat and three looks great,” I say.
She tilts her head. “Meat and three?”
“Beef, veggie, potato, and salad. That all looks and smells amazing. Like in a fine restaurant.”
Shark serves me first, and I notice Alessio is waiting until we’ve all piled our plates before serving himself. When Shark puts my plate down and tells me to pass the fork, I do so without a word. He starts to cut my steak. It’s medium well, and I like mine on the medium rare side, but I’ll eat it all the same. Once done working on my food, Shark dumps almost the entirety of the fish dish onto his plate.
Valerina chuckles. “Our chef is Lebanese. We’re fond of Lebanese dishes, and this one is Miro’s favorite.”
Shark dips a piece of flat bread into the dish and then tastes it. His eyes roll back, and he moans.
Valerina nods approvingly, Alessio’s picking out his piece of meat, and I’m over here blushing at the way Shark eats and moans because now I’m thinking at the missed opportunity of him eating me out.
“Is there something wrong?” Alessio asks, his gaze catching mine.
Alessio’s blue eyes are difficult to hold. I look away. “Not at all.”
“Why aren’t you eating?” he asks, sounding offended.
I pick up my fork and commence to eating before the Doberman snaps and bites my head off for offending his household by not eating any of his food. The flavor of the steak bursts on my tongue the moment I put it into my mouth.
“Holy moly, what’s on this steak?”
“Orange zest.”
“Get out,” I say in disbelief. Who does that? Never heard of that. I shove another bite into my mouth, trying to chew politely while wanting to shove the entire filet into my mouth and eat two more. Make that five. Damn, this is the best filet I ever had.
I fork a potato and taste it, and it’s the best damn potato I ever had, and that’s saying something coming from someone who got all the potato straight from the farm. “Guys, I was going to offer to make pancakes tomorrow for breakfast, but now I’m thinking I’ll show up hungry and wait to be fed.”
“I like your pancakes,” Shark says.
Alessio stops chewing, but doesn’t comment.
Valerina takes a sip of her water. “I would love pancakes. Haven’t had any since I left New York.”
I was right about New York. “Oh, yeah? Where about in New York?”
“Manhattan,” she says.
Of course. “Did you do any shopping there?”
Valerina sighs wistfully. “Did I ever.”
Alessio dabs his mouth with a napkin. “Ever been to New York?”
“Sadly, no, but I’m planning on it now that I can afford a shopping trip on Fifth Avenue.”
“We can go together. Fly commercial, if you prefer.”
“Sure. Um, commercial is fine. First class. Sipping champagne while my feet stretch out on the bed and under a comfortable fluffy blanket in a dark, quiet cabin.”
“Oh yes,” Valerina says. “I could use another vacation right now.”
“From what?” Alessio asks.
She smiles a devilish grin. “You.”
Alessio shakes his head.
“Where is Leo?” I ask.
“Napping,” she says. “He ate a burger with fries. When he wakes up, we’ll have cakes.”
Alessio and Shark are changing plates, getting second servings. Valerina seems pleased. At first, I thought there was too much food, but with how much these men can eat and with my big pregnant appetite, I’m starting to see why Valerina served enough to feed a small army.
She helps herself to more salad, looking longingly after her potatoes. “I really shouldn’t.”
“Shouldn’t what?” Alessio asks.
She shakes her head. “The baby is too small to be an excuse for all the calories I’m consuming.”
“Which baby?” I ask because I want to be sure the bump I see behind her flowy shirt is a pregnant belly.
“I’m pregnant.”
I pat my belly. “How far are you?”
“Second trimester. Not sure how many weeks yet, but I have an appointment tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow won’t work,” Alessio says. “See if you can reschedule.”
I pick at my food. “I’ve not seen an OB yet.”
The silence is deafening, and I hate it. I’m trying to make conversation with strangers who’ve been the first nice people I’ve encountered this year, and every time I bring up anything remotely normal, everyone shuts up and I feel like I’ve muted conversations that previously flowed well enough to be entertaining.
“Did I say something wrong?” I ask.
“No,” Shark answers. “I’ll take you whenever you want to go.”
“This week, then, if the OB has room in the schedule.”
Shark glances at me. “If she doesn’t, she will make room.”
“You can take my appointment,” Valerina suggests. “Tomorrow. Then we’ll go shopping.”
“Troy is busy tomorrow,” Alessio says. “In fact, we all are.” He neatly places his utensils on his plate and folds his cloth napkin on the side. His eyes meet Shark’s. “Isn’t that right, my friend?”
Shark doesn’t look up or acknowledge Alessio at all. He picks up a carving knife and spins the blade while balancing the tip of it on his left index finger without making it bleed.
Alessio’s eyes narrow at Shark, who doesn’t look away from the spinning blade.
“Troy,” Alessio says, “I have a proposal for you.”
Shark lets the blade fall. It thuds to the table and makes both me and Valerina jump a little. Okay, this quiet and easygoing man can be intense when he wants to be.
“You’ll run your proposal by me first,” Shark states in a way that makes me think his word is final. I’ve never heard him use this tone of voice before. Evidenced by the slight widening of his eyes, Alessio seems shocked too.
What’s the proposal?