Chapter Forty-Two
Zahra
I may have overdone it.
Trickery and manipulation were my things, but it had never gotten to the point where I’d used this particular skill to help someone else.
Especially not someone like Elio Marino, who saw words as affirmations.
Passing on the wrong notion might be terrible, but if I was honest with myself, would it still be considered wrong if I actually wanted to do it because I cared?
Not really. But denial was sweeter than acceptance.
We might be alike, but I sure as hell was not ready to confront my conflicting feelings, at least not when my intentions were a little … sideways.
There was a benefit, though. Having him by my side was for the best. It was better to be in the good graces of this man than the opposite.
One thing I had come to learn in this game was that trusting impulsive and unpredictable people could lead to your downfall; so no, I didn’t trust him, and he didn’t trust me either, but there was a truce somewhere in the middle, and I had to admit that it was better than nothing at all.
We were settled back on his bed, and I’d gotten dressed again; after wanting to bolt, immediately I had my clothes on, but then I remembered dinner, which was not as hot as when I first brought it, but warm enough to be eatable.
It wouldn’t have cost me a second to leave it all for Elio to eat, but I was hungry too, and I never said no to food, no matter how awkward the situation might be.
Who was I kidding—I was more uncomfortable because the situation wasn’t awkward.
Elio was quiet, on his phone, looking more relaxed than he had been before I got here.
I was the problem.
I didn’t deal with aftermaths, and our aftermath wasn’t supposed to be so … comfortable.
I opened the bowl I’d put the food in. The smell of fried potatoes, sauce, garlic, and something that could only be described as whatever Dog’s secret ingredient was filled my nostrils and transported me to a setting where food was the main character, and humans were its supporting cast for it.
His patatas bravas were his brand signature, my personal favorite after his pasta and showstopping tortillas.
Elio dropped his phone by his side, looking into the bowl with a surprised glint in his eyes. “Hm. Impressive.”
I took in a deep breath with my eyes closed, a smile spreading on my lips as I opened my eyes again, hypnotized by the aroma and garnish.
“Food prepared by my best friend, Dog. Always phenomenal; one bite changes your life, never to be eaten for free because we at Street believe nothing this good should come easy, and one day, one day we will have our own restaurant, with Dog as chef and all members of Street getting access to eat for free for the rest of our lives, and we will make history, endless meals, endless—”
“I believe I have gotten your point now,” he cut me off, and the imaginary soundtrack in my head ceased. I rolled my eyes as I passed him a fork.
“My mother loved this dish,” he said. “She never prepared it, but she had this recipe book. Patatas bravas was highlighted with a pen. Although this is the first I’m seeing one that’s made with beef.”
“Ah, Dog loves experimenting with his dishes, but I’m glad to know your mom loved it,” I said, shoving my fork into a potato and then a small hunk of beef and some of the sauce, raising it to my view. “Let’s eat this with her, yeah?” I grinned.
“I don’t know how that would work. She’s been dead for years,” he stated.
My grin died. “Jesus—you know what I meant, you blunt fuck.”
“Oh,” he said, but then went quiet with a frown before his brows went up. “You meant that in a figurative sense.”
I shook my head. “Something tells me many people have died because you thought their statements were literal.”
He dipped his fork into a piece of potato. “You’re probably right.” He ate the potato, and his eyes widened a little.
I ate it too, and I almost melted on the spot. It tasted like a good orgasm. My mind took a second to fly into space and back. “So delicious!” I moaned. “What do you think?”
He shrugged. “It’s not bad.”
My frown was immediate. “Not bad? Do you have … Hold on.” I reached for his phone, about to tell him to unlock it when it opened on its own.
Upon his not stopping to question me, I searched for the Safari icon and, in the search bar, typed out: What’s it called when someone doesn’t have a sense of taste?
The results filed out, and my frown deepened. “How the fuck is this shit pronounced? Ageu—wi-usia?”
“Ageusia,” he corrected fluently, taking his phone from my hand and dropping it beside him. “My sense of taste is perfect.”
I felt offended for Dog’s talent. “If it were perfect, you wouldn’t refer to this awesomeness between us as ‘not bad.’ You should be jailed for it.”
He took another forkful into his mouth while nodding at my statement. “I never said it was bad.”
“You didn’t say it was good either.”
“Baseless argument.”
“I swear, you—”
“Keep talking, and I’ll finish it all.” He lined his fork with three potatoes and almost all the sauce before shoving it into his mouth.
“What the fuck—”
He was diving for another round, determined actually to finish it all.
I’ll show him.
I shoved my own fork in, stabbing as many potatoes as I could carry, alongside portions of beef, shoving it all in my mouth. It got so full that I had to use my other hand to support my jaw.
Elio had taken two more forkfuls during my struggle. I had the urge to scream, but my mouth was too full, and it wasn’t easy to chew. The man was eating like he was the only one destined to eat from the bowl, like it would help stop the apocalypse or something.
After a few minutes of me trying to swallow and fill up my fork at the same time, the bowl was almost empty.
No, this won’t do.
This time, he didn’t take any potato because there were only a few left; his focus was on the beef.
I didn’t know how he did it, but he managed to gather almost everything on his fork.
When he took it up and into his mouth, I grabbed the bowl quickly and got off the bed, heading to the far corner of the room as I managed to swallow.
“You’re a fucking food bully; what the fuck! ” I shot with a glare.
“I don’t like sharing,” he said, bringing the fork in line with his mouth as his tongue came out to lick the metal, somehow making me feel jealous of the nonliving thing.
I got ahold of myself. “It was my food that I decided, out of the kindness of my very subtle heart, to share with you. My food. I should be the one to eat most of it.”
“You speak as though your name was carved into the bowl.”
“Never again. I’ll never eat with you again; you’re one of those kids with wide mouths and throats, always bringing the biggest spoon so they can eat more than the little people. That is mean, no one should do shit like that.”
Amusement danced in his eyes. “I was eating like I normally do.”
I scoffed. “And he calls me an animal. You’re a beast, the worst of your kind, fucking asshole.”
Elio chuckled, getting off the bed while I hugged the bowl to my chest possessively.
“Relax, let’s get water in the kitchen. I’m full; the rest is yours.”
“You ate almost everything; there’s no … rest.”
He dished me a disapproving look. “Follow me.”
We reached the kitchen some minutes later, and he washed the fork he’d used before getting himself and me some water and settling on a stool opposite me.
“Thanks for dinner,” he said. “Both dinners.”
I gave him a fake wide smile, getting on a stool. “Real smooth.”
“Hm,” he said, ring-free fingers thumping on the table, biding his time to ask me a question. When I returned his rings earlier, he didn’t bother to put them back on.
I sneaked a glance at him as I ate the last bit from the bowl, not nearly enough to make me satisfied. “What is it?”
“I’m curious,” he said. “How many languages do you know?”
I picked up the cup, bringing it to my lips before speaking. “Nine.” I drank a few gulps before dropping the glass back down. “Italian, Spanish, English, French, Korean, Russian, Vietnamese, Polish, and Mandarin.”
“How did you learn?”
I shrugged. “I was little. As you’ve seen in your background check, we didn’t have a normal school where I grew up.
But our guardian was a linguist. When I had the chance to study more, I decided to focus on languages.
There’s just something beautiful about speaking and knowing that not everyone around you understands.
You could be selling off someone, and they’d be smiling and thanking you. ”
He nodded. “It’s a good skill.”
I smiled.
“Can you read and write in those languages?” he asked.
“Nope. I only speak and understand.”
“English too?”
I paused, my eyes searching his as I shifted uncomfortably. “They didn’t really pay attention to what we studied and how far we’d learned where I grew up … Um, I try though, with English, but mostly the basic stuff.”
He nodded. “Hm.”
“Well, I should get going; it’s midnight.”
“Stay; leave when the sun comes up.”
“No, can’t do that,” I blurted. “There’s no staying overnight in this arrangement.”
He frowned like he didn’t like what I just said. “We don’t have to do anything.”
I forced out a laugh, giving him a wary stare. “What, you want me to stay back so we can … cuddle?” At cuddle, I made an irritated expression, anything to show him we weren’t there and would never be there.
He didn’t respond.
“Pfft, get real, Elio. That’s never going to happen.”
He shifted like he was uncomfortable. “I don’t know where your mind traveled to, but no.
I recall the other day in Turin, you mentioned this TV show about a morning star, and I—” He stopped abruptly, and it seemed he was looking for ways to frame his words.
“I have a cinema room. We could watch it since, well, most of my knowledge about TV shows is from before I went to the army and you seem more, more … up to date in that area.”