“You must be hungry,” He began. “I’m going to release you, we’ll go down to the kitchen and you’ll eat. Understand?” He made no move of getting up but instead fiddled with the keys in his hand.
I hadn’t outright seen the movement that caught my eyes but a glimpse of silver at his other side had me hypnotized. A gun, upon further inspection. I nodded to answer his question. I had been hungry but my appetite had quickly run off, along with my ability to speak.
“You do anything I don’t like again and you’ll be punished. Understood?” I scanned his eyes for any sign that he was bluffing. I couldn’t see any. He stood and took the handcuffs into his hands. With the gun so close, I tried to catch a whiff of, well, anything - anything that might indicate that the gun had been fired recently.
I got nothing. Maybe he was bluffing after all.
Was that a risk I was willing to take? No.
So, I kept my mouth shut and my guard high.
I turned to check on Anastasia when her footsteps stopped. The sight nearly had me breaking my stony facade, her back was pressed flat against the wall and eyes wide as she stared across the room. “What the fuck is that?”
I followed her gaze to where Achilles was harmlessly lounging on his bed. As I answered her, I swung back around and continued on into the kitchen.“‘That’is a he.”
“A he? I wasn’t asking for its gender, rather why you have a freaking bear in your living room!” she squawked, all the while pointing at my three-year-old American Akita, Achilles.
“He’s not a bear, Achilles is just a dog. And don’t worry, he won’t hurt you.” I said offhandedly, from behind the kitchen counter.
Without asking what she’d like, I began preparing ingredients for lunch. Maybe pasta would be a good idea. Not exactly showing off my cooking skills but I’d rather be safe than sorry.
Because really, who didn’t like pasta?
Realistically, I should have done more looking into what she ate. As I came to think of it, I didn't know all that much about her likes or dislikes. An oversight of mine that would have to be rectified quickly.
“You mean, he won’t bite.” She let out a nervous chuckle as I set the water to boil. I assumed she was laughing at something she wasn’t saying. I supposed I wasn’t privy to the inner workings of her brain yet, but I would be.
Whether she agreed to it or not.
“Not unless I tell him to.” I watch her reaction carefully. Her wide eyes flick to me as if asking if I were serious. Ignoring her silent question, I continued chopping tomatoes. “I wouldn’t suggest running, he quite likes a game of ‘fetch’.”
“Good advice. What are you making?” She eased up onto one of the bar stools and began watching me closely. I guessed that she was watching for anything suspicious, I’d be wary of any food as well if the situation was reversed. At least Achilles’ presence doesn’t seem to be bothering her anymore.
“Pasta. I hope you’re hungry.”
I could see from the corner of my eye the look of indecision so plainly clouding her face. She did that bitey thing with her cheek again. Is that her tell? I wondered. I’d have to keep a closer eye out for it. “Starved. I haven’t eaten in a while,” she finally said.
I waited until the pasta was rolling in the boiling water before turning to face her. The counter stood between us and I somewhat hoped that the good measure of space would put her more at ease. I wondered what she meant by that, if there was a deeper meaning behind her words. My eyes sought out signs of malnutrition but couldn’t find any. She was thin by nature, but I couldn’t see anything that pointed to any long term starvation.
Her father had just been murdered, so I doubted she’d been able to keep anything down for the last few days. Maybe that was what she’d meant. Losing a parent was hard, I understood that.
No matter how much I loathed Anton Exley, a part of me would forever mourn the loss of Anastasia’s father - just for the sake that he was a very important part of her life.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” It doesn’t sound sincere at all but for some reason I needed her to know that there was meaning behind my words, that I cared enough to say the words.
“Keep your pity. For all I know, you were behind his murder.” The razor-sharp ice returned to her eyes. Maybe she wasn’t the one that needed the island between us. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she launched herself at me again, trying to claw my eyes out. “Just because you weren’t physically there, doesn’t mean you’re off the hook.”
I was prepared to turn away, to keep my mouth shut and give her a minute. But her words struck a chord. What the hell was she on about? I wasn’t there. I knew that but how did she? My eyebrows pulled together as I worked the words over as if they were a riddle.
“Just because I wasn’t physically there?” I asked, curious at the phrasing. Of course, I wasn’t there, but she couldn’t have known that. Perhaps the police had gotten descriptions…?
I turned my back on her to check on the pasta before starting on the sauce. I looked over my shoulder as she spoke but the fury showing on her face had me conflicted. She was one of those unfortunately adorable angry women. With her high-pitched voice, her jaw clenched and her cheeks tight, she was like an angry chipmunk.
“Are you telling me that my eyes deceived me? Are you admitting that you were there?” she demanded, glaring at me with her fists clenched, knuckles white, on the countertop.
“I had nothing to do with your fathers’ murder, physically or otherwise. Regardless of whether you believe me or not.” I paused, thinking for a moment. “Anastasia, how do you know who was there?”
I could tell by the long sigh that escaped her lips that she had finally given in. I put the frying pan down as I plated up our dinner. “You were there,” I said simply.
