I lick my lips and smile. “I wonder if we’re going to have a cold winter. Last winter was pretty bland. I want a white Christmas. I know we don’t get those here. And I was so young the last time we had one… I think it would remind me of home. Did your family do anything special for the Christmas holidays? The tree? The presents, all that?”
I look at him with patient expectation and hold back a giggle because he looks more confused than anything else.
“Yes, we had family dinners,” he answers gruffly, then turns his attention back to his food.
“I love the holidays, all of them. For one holiday, I went to Hawaii with some friends. It took me a full month of begging to get my brother to let me go, but it was worth it. The water there is like a dream. And the people. And the trees and the birds and everything. It’s too beautiful to describe, but I had the best time ever. Have you ever been?”
“Yes,” he answers, clipped, cold.
I take a bite of my lasagna and chew happily, letting myself be myself despite the fact that I’m sitting across from a man I hate for what he plans to do.
Just be yourself. That’s all.
“I noticed in your library that you have a copy of The Tibetan Book of the Dead. It sounds so ominous, but when I browsed through it, I realized it was actually all about the afterlife—what happens to our souls and all that. It was kind of beautiful.”
“You shouldn’t touch that book. It’s incredibly rare,” he huffs.
“Oh, don’t worry, I was very gentle. I love books, even though I don’t read as often as I should. They feel like they’re fullof beautiful secrets. A special kind of magic lives inside books. You don’t have to worry about me damaging any of them. I’m sure they are very special to you.” I smile at him, warmth in my eyes.
He presses his lips together, watching me as he sips his drink, then picks up his cutlery to resume eating.
“What’s your favorite book? Do you collect rare books, or was that given to you by someone?”
Marlen’s lips lift in a sneer, and I giggle quietly. “Sorry, I’m a bit too chatty. I’m sure you’ve had a long day and just want some quiet. Do you want another drink? Yours is almost done. I don’t mind pouring one for you. Half soda, a splash of whiskey?”
The confusion on his face grows deeper as he pushes his empty glass toward me. “Sure,” he says, short and clipped.
I hop up, grabbing the glass along the way as I hurry toward the kitchen to pour him another drink.
Two blocks of ice, that’s what he put in before.
I set the drink down in front of him, and he stares at it for a moment.
I giggle, throwing him a cheeky smile. “Careful, maybe I laced it with something, and I plan to take advantage of you later.” I wink—a dangerous little flirt.
This remark floors him. His jaw drops open, and his eyes shoot wide, but in a flash, he’s pushed the surprise from his face and picked up his glass to sip it. I guess he’s confident there isn’t any such drug in the house for me to use on him. Or he’s trying to prove to me that he fears nothing.
Or he wants you to do wicked things to him later.I stifle another giggle and scold myself for the images that flash through my mind.
Sitting down at the table, I carry on eating and chatting.
I do notice, though, that his eyes keep darting to me for the remainder of dinner.
My plan might just work. With patience, I might just get through to him.
A full week has passed since I got kidnapped, and even though I’ve been having dinner with Marlen every night and I’ve been my normal happy self instead of bitch-mode-defensive-kidnap-angry… it isn’t working. He’s a stone wall. An impenetrable force of nature. My frustration levels are getting worse every night when I go to bed, nowhere close to my goal than before.You can’t give up yet, Stef. Keep trying.
I don’t know what else to do. I’m wasting my time and energy on this idea. I need to think of something else.
Chapter 5 - Marlen
Not that I would ever admit this out loud, but every night, come dinner time, it’s somehow become my favorite part of the day.
There is a strange mix of enjoyment and fascination I feel around Stefania. I can’t, for the life of me, work out how she’s able to be so full of sunshine and joy when she’s trapped in what can only be described as a horrible situation. She’s been kidnapped, held against her will. She should be miserable.
Yet night after night she sits opposite me, chatting away about books and places she wants to see in the world, things she wants to try, animals, and how fascinating they are.
She’s this endless source of light and intrigue, and I can’t see to get enough of her.
