42. Juliet #2
Turning my back to him, I march to the foot of my bed and pick up a pair of black red-bottom pumps. Slipping into them, I straighten my back and march for the door. Stuart moves back as I step into the hallway and turn towards the stairs.
“I’m glad you decided to pay proper respect to Mr. Calloway’s dinner invitation tonight,” he comments.
A snort leaves me, but I don’t respond as we descend the grand staircase to the lower floor and turn towards the hall that leads into the formal dining room.
For the first fifteen years of my life, this house had felt as much like home to me as my own.
I used to climb over each railing, run through every room, and pilfer through all of the cabinets.
If Morpheus really did frame my father for embezzlement, then I’ll find the evidence.
Just before we enter the dining room, I pause and glance over my shoulder at the short, skinny man dressed in a poor man’s excuse for a suit.
“I have a question for you, Stuart,” I say, offering him a taunting smirk.
“You do everything for Mr. Calloway. I’m just curious, do you suck his dick when he needs it, too? ”
Stuart’s sharp, offended inhalation is all the answer I need. With a quiet chuckle, I turn from him and start walking again. “Well, you can keep at it,” I call back to him. “Because I’d rather drink bleach than whore myself for your fucking master.”
I enter the dining room and as soon as I do, Morpheus rises from his seat at the long table that dominates the space.
Spine straight, stomach sinking, I walk down the length to the only other place setting waiting to the right of him.
I would have preferred to sit at opposite ends, but I suspect being choosier about which battles I fight will help me more in the long run than throwing a tantrum now.
Morpheus’ eyes widen as he takes me in. From the sweetheart neckline of my dress that plumps my breasts up to the long length of my legs that are revealed to the glittering diamonds of his choker around my throat, he eats me alive with his gaze. A wave of disgust rolls through me.
“You look beautiful this evening, Juliet.”
“Thank you.” The response tastes like ash on my tongue. My eyes cut to Stuart as he steps into the doorway, pushing his bent glasses up his nose as he glares my way. His flushed face brings an actual, genuine smile to my lips. “I was told I needed to dress appropriately for dinner.”
Morpheus reaches for my hand, his skin hot against my cold fingers as he lifts the back of my knuckles to press a kiss there. “Well, I’m quite surprised and flattered by the effort,” he says. “Shall we sit?”
He releases my hand to pull my seat out and I deftly wipe the back of it against my dress, but even that doesn’t erase the slimy feel of his mouth on my skin.
I lower myself onto the chair, expecting that Morpheus will shift and take his own seat next.
Instead, he cups my shoulders and bends low, pressing his lips to my ear.
“Seeing you wearing the clothes and jewelry I’ve picked out for you makes me very happy, darling,” he murmurs, his voice low like a lover’s. “You always looked best when you were dressed properly.”
Suddenly, I feel as if I’ve made a grave mistake. The dress. The jewelry. The heels. I’m a fish out of water, laid out on dry land and gasping as air steals the last of my life.
Morpheus releases me and takes his seat at the head of the table and though it’s just a few feet of distance, I’m grateful for the space.
The second his hands are off me, I can breathe again.
A side door opens and servants begin to enter, carrying platters of food that they set atop the table and lifting away their tops.
Steamed vegetables. Smoked meat presented in brown and red sauces.
Thinly sliced and well-seasoned potatoes.
The smells should make my stomach growl.
I’ve eaten very little in the last week as I tried to hide away in the bedroom and cover the marks that would have ousted Lex’s clandestine visit.
The food has the opposite effect, causing nausea to swell up and choke me.
Stuart walks down the table and quietly says something to Morpheus as one of the servants begins to spoon helpings onto the plate in front of me. A water glass is filled and I reach for it immediately. My fingers close around the cool surface, stopping when Morpheus speaks.
“Thank you for that report, Stuart,” he snaps. “You may leave.” He turns his head to the rest of the staff. “All of you may. Go .”
All of the air in the room evaporates as, one by one, all of the staff backs away from the table.
Even Stuart blinks in surprise at Morpheus’ sharp tone, but he leaves with the rest of them.
Though the doorway leading from the main hall into the dining room has no actual door to close, we’re as alone as if there were no one else here within minutes.
My heart beats a rapid tempo against my chest. I stare down at the mix of food on my plate, only half piled with the potatoes and vegetables. Morpheus is quiet for a moment and in an effort to pretend nonchalance, I reach for my fork.
“I apologize for being away so soon after your return,” he says, breaking the silence. “But the problem has been resolved now and I shouldn’t have to leave again for quite some time. I do hope Stuart was helpful to you while I was away.”
“Stuart was an asshole.” I don’t mince my words. I don’t give a shit if it gets the uppity dickstain fired or not. I stab a potato with my fork.
Morpheus shifts in his chair, the wood creaking under him as he pulls one of the platters closer and then lifts a steaming slice of meat onto his plate.
“I’m afraid he can be quite conservative in his views,” Morpheus murmurs.
“He expects things to be in their place at all times. A wonderful quality in an assistant, I assure you, though perhaps not a great one in a caretaker.”
“Babysitter, you mean?” I lift my gaze to meet his. “Or does Stuart know that he’s more than that? That he’s my prison guard as well?”
Morpheus chuckles. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Juliet,” he says, lifting his knife and cutting into his meat—some sort of beef by the looks of it.
“Stuart would be a poor prison guard, but even if I asked it of him—you know this house isn’t meant to be a jail cell for you.
It’s a sanctuary. Your haven. So much of Silverwood blames you for your father’s wrongdoings and it’s so sad to see. You are innocent in this whole mess.”
The end of my fork clings against my plate, I’m trembling so hard. Anger surfaces, boiling hot and volatile. I picture sinking the utensil right into his fucking eye and popping it out of its socket.
“If Stuart upsets you, I can have another person brought in. Perhaps one of your girlfriends? Stuart did say that you were quite unwell not long after I left. You must’ve been bored here alone.”
Shoving the bite of potato into my mouth so I don’t have to answer immediately, I chew and swallow by rote. Soon enough, the excuse is gone and I’m forced to come up with something to say. “Like he told you, I was sick.” Lame, but it’s something. I stab a vegetable and bring it to my lips.
Morpheus hums in the back of his throat, cutting his meat into tight little pieces.
His attention sears the side of my face as I work on keeping my expression even, disinterested.
Several minutes go by in uncomfortable silence with me pretending to taste the food and him cutting his as he watches me.
“I don’t want you to think of this house as a prison, Juliet,” he says after some time. The skin over my shoulders tightens at the sound of his voice after such preferred silence. “I would like to invite someone over for you to speak with. A friend.”
My fingers clench around the handle of my fork. “I don’t have any friends,” I bite out. “Not anymore.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
My head snaps up and my gaze connects with his. Of course he’s staring at me. His eyes practically devour me as he roves from my cheeks and painted lips to the diamond choker wrapped around my throat, hiding a far more offensive secret. What has he heard? Did someone see Lex leave?
“I heard you got along quite well with some girls from the public school,” Morpheus says. “I believe a girl named Roquel was your… what do they call them these days? Student ambassador?”
All of the muscles in my body relax. Not about Lex or the guys then. That’s good.
“She gave me a tour on behalf of Principal Long,” is all I say in response.
Again, he hums as if my answer intrigues him. “Would you like to have her over?” he asks.
My brow puckers and once again, I glance at his face, searching it for any sign of deception or scheming.
No matter that I see beyond the surface of what he shows anyone else, that I’ve felt him on top of me, inside of me, taking what wasn’t his to demand while I couldn’t stop it—trying to determine his intentions is nearly impossible now.
His expression remains serene, curious but open as if the two of us really are nothing but a girl and her father’s best friend with a close relationship that they’ve had since childhood. This has always been my problem. He makes me feel as if I’m crazy, as if what I know to be true isn’t real.
“I…” Would it be a good idea to invite Roquel to Morpheus’ house? She might be able to get a message to the Scorpion Kings if I asked her to. She could tell Nolan that I… Well, surely Lex would have told him the truth, right? If that were the case, though, why haven’t they tried to contact me?
My head swims with questions and thoughts. “Don’t you think I should go back to school?” It’s a risk, but surely Morpheus can’t expect that I’ll remain locked up in his house forever.
The easygoing expression falls away from his features and I know I’ve made a mistake the second I see it. My skin turns clammy and sweat beads pop up along the back of my neck.