Chapter 21 BETH
BETH
Until night fell and a new day began.
“Doesn’t the food look a bit too much?” I asked, my gaze shifting from the endless spread of different meals on the large table to Kenzo.
Even if I appeared less privileged, Kenzo at least didn’t. His clothes were designer brands and they saw his car that we drove around town with. So why were they trying to feed us like we were a couple of starving kids they generously picked from the street of Torvane?
Kenzo gave me a half-shrug in reply, then continued scrolling through his social media feed, replying to the thousands of comments on his latest post, giggling at the sheer love from his followers.
Me with my 200 followers could never relate.
I would post something I thought was nice and there would be just 2 likes.
And for the 2 likes, one was from Kenzo and the second was from his spam account.
How I often got commissioned on art was sheer miracle.
I turned to the table, my brows pulled together in calculation. I still wasn’t comfortable with how the whole table was covered with food. Did they think we were gluttons? I began to count. “You and I are already two,” I mused. “Callan makes us three. Who are the remaining two?”
“That’ll be Captain Razzo and Miss Ophelia,” Mr. Yulia answered, arriving at the table again with a stainless steel bowl, steam curling from its lid.
My mind immediately latched onto the names he just called. Razzo and Ophelia? Who were those people? Never heard of them.
If they were eating at the dining table that meant they couldn’t possibly be a staff, but a family member. How come it never came up in me and Callan’s conversations?
Wait, had I ever even asked him to tell me more about himself? I only knew about the family he came from and his job.
“Yulia.” A deep voice laced with Italian accent broke into my thoughts.
The sound of heavy boots followed, and then the owner of the voice appeared; an unfamiliar young man lowering himself into a chair with the easy confidence of someone who belonged.
His sharp eyes were the darkest shade of black I had ever seen; polished obsidian, piercing and unreadable. His onyx hair was styled into a messy pompadour, a silver ring gleaming at the corner of his lower lip.
Dark ink curled up his neck in the shape of a snarling snake–the exact tattoo I had seen a few times peeking from under the collar of Callan’s shirt.
My stomach twisted slightly at the sight of it. And thinking about it, all the soldiers I had been able to get a good look at since I arrived also had the same tattoo on the same spot.
What did it mean? Was that like the insignia of his group of soldiers?
“Well, I think your question is gonna be ans–”
“Yulia!”
Whatever Kenzo was saying got cut off by an irritated, high-pitched voice calling our Mr. Yulia.
The owner of the voice strode into the dining room too, her thigh-high leather boots clacking against the floor like the slow tick of a bomb. In full view, she was petite, the same height as me, yet she carried herself like she owned the universe.
Her feline eyes narrowed down on Kenzo and I immediately. “What’s happening here?” she demanded, voice cold and unwelcoming.
I straightened instinctively. Miss Ophelia, I presumed.
“Miss Ophelia, Captain Razzo…” Mr. Yulia’s gaze bounced between them before he gestured to Kenzo and I. “These are the Marshal’s guests from Braemont. And he has asked us to treat them kindly.”
Did he, though?
“Odd,” the one referred to as Captain Razzo mused, his sharp gaze resting intently on me. “He didn’t mention that he was expecting guests.”
“I don’t think he knew they were coming either,” Mr. Yulia murmured under his breath, low enough that it almost went unheard.
For some reason, the butler’s comment made the Captain’s lip twitch in amusement. “My uncle doesn’t usually open his door to uninvited guests, though. I’m really curious. What changed?”
Uncle?
I blinked at the guy. Callan had a nephew? Though the guy looked to be the same age as us, I still couldn’t believe Callan had a sister old enough to have a teenage son. I didn’t even know he had a sister at all.
Captain Razzo’s gaze slid to Kenzo, “So, what’s your name, goldie?”
Kenzo stared at him with a blank expression, his lips in a thin line. It appeared that he had no intention of answering the guy. Softly, I nudged him with my elbow.
“Kenzo,” he finally decided to reply, his gaze returning to his phone almost immediately.
“Kenzo.” The Captain tested the name, a smirk lifting the corner of his lips as he ran his dark eyes over Kenzo, who, might I add, wasn’t even giving him the eye of the day. “Cute.”
He chuckled softly, then his gaze shifted to me. “And you, red,” he said. “What’s your name?”
“Um, Elizabeth,” I replied, and from the corner of my eyes, I saw Kenzo raise a questioning brow at me using Elizabeth again.
“Elizabeth,” Captain Razzo mused, a familiar look crossing his features, as if he knew something I and everyone else on the table didn’t. “Nice.”
“But you can call me Beth.” I added casually, realising I didn’t like anyone else calling me Elizabeth other than Callan.
“Why?” His brow arched.
I blinked. “Um, cause Elizabeth is a bit wordy. And besides, my friend calls me Beth and I like it.”
A half-smirk tugged at his lips. “But I’m not your friend.”
Kenzo muttered an insulting comment under his breath, but the Captain only glanced at him with mild amusement.
“So what’s Callan’s relationship with them?” Miss Ophelia demanded in irritation, like she would pick us both up by our collar and fling us out if she could.
Captain Razzo leaned into his chair, looking far too entertained. “I wouldn’t know now, would I? Go ask him yourself. He’s your brother, after all.”
Brother, huh?
I released a frustrated sigh. So this was Callan’s sister too? Callan had two sisters and a nephew?
“He never told me he had a sister,” I murmured. “I mean, sisters.”
“Remember when I said you didn’t know him?” Kenzo whispered, leaning in. I drove my elbow into his ribs, harsh this time, causing a quiet wince from him. But he was right. He did mention it a few times that I didn’t know Callan.
“This doesn’t make any sense,” Ophelia looked beyond troubled by our mere presence. If she could turn us to dust or make us disappear in a puff of smoke, she would.
“When it comes to him, nothing has to make sense to you,” the Captain scoffed. “I thought you knew this already?”
“Still,” Ophelia pressed, lifting a spoon into her hand, then dragging her plate closer to her. “This is Callan we are talking about. He is supposed to hate people. How could he have friends?” The word friends sounded foreign on her tongue as she turned to me with a sneer.
“Sorry, do you have a problem with us or something?” The question was out before I could stop it. But I was severely getting irritated by the second. What was the woman’s problem, anyway?
Ophelia turned to look at me, her expression flat. “Are you just catching on? Yes, I have a problem with both of you. It doesn’t make sense that you are in my house, strangers that I don’t remember inviting.”
“Your house?” The Captain raised a brow, chuckling. “This is so interesting.”
“My brother’s house is my house,” Ophelia countered rather grumpily.
“Look, I think you all should start your meal before it gets cold,” Mr. Yulia interjected, his smile never faltering.
I didn’t even realise that he had been hovering around the table all this while.
“Whatever question anyone has, I’m sure the Marshal will give you all the answers when he gets back,” he added.
My gaze drifted to the head of the table where a single plate remained untouched. He was supposed to be here. So where was he, anyway?
My stomach tightened.
Was he avoiding me?
“Is he going to come for dinner at all?” I asked, my tone unusually sour.
“Why?” Ophelia demanded. “Do you need him to feed you?”
Captain Razzo rolled his eyes, his jaw faintly twitching. “Can you not be immature for a second? It might shock you to know, but she’s not the cause of your problems.”
Then he turned to me, shrugging. “He might not come. He hardly comes down for dinner.”
“Well, is he home right now?” I asked, my voice quieter this time.
“Oh my god!” Ophelia slammed her hands on the table. “Will you just shut up for a second?”
Captain Razzo made a frustrated sound from the back of his throat.
“Beth,” Kenzo whispered. “Just eat, okay?”
“Sergei!” Captain Razzo suddenly called out to the armed man hovering near the dining room.
“Yes, Captain?!”
“Is the Marshal home yet?”
“No, Captain!”
He looked back at me. “Has your question been answered?”
I sighed, poking at my food. “Yeah. Thanks.”
The clinging of steel echoed in the room. But I didn’t feel like eating. Not when all I could think about was where Callan was and why he hadn’t come to see me.
He must really hate my presence to the point that he refused to see me.
Throughout that day, I waited and waited. But he never came until night fell, and a new day began.