Chapter Fifteen
Kris
Kris looked at the plate Michel set in front of him as if he thought he was about to eat his last meal.
He’s being too, I dunno, friendly? He did promise I could call my mom before, but this? Feels like something is off.
“The salmon is wild caught, not farmed,” Ishmael said conversationally. Kris watched as Ishmael cut a bite of the tender salmon steak and lifted it to his mouth.
He does have a pretty mouth. How can such a bad guy have such a pretty mouth? Wait, what am I even thinking about?
Confused, Kris glanced down at the salmon on his own plate. The dill sauce smothered it without it swimming in it. It did look and smell delicious. He picked up his own fork, peeking up through his lashes to see if it was genuinely okay or if this was some kind of trick. He wasn’t surprised to find Ishmael watching him with an implacable stare.
Shit. He knows. That’s got to be it. He must have looked in the shower and noticed I didn’t use that stuff.
“About the shower,” Kris began.
“We can discuss that later. I’m sure you have questions,” Ishmael cut him off. “For now, let’s enjoy our meal, and afterwards, you can call your mother and inform her of your new position as my personal assistant and liaison to Triborr.” Ishmael poured himself a glass of wine from the bottle in the ice bucket on the table. Michel had pulled the cork on it while Ishmael had washed his hands, just before placing it on ice.
“You look much better. The rest served you well,” Ishmael noted.
Okay, if this is how he wants to play it.
“Uh, yeah, I feel much better now, though I was quite muzzy headed when I woke up. My mouth was dry as a desert, too.”
“I’m sure the glass of water helped clear the mental fog and dealt with the dehydration.’
I didn’t dry the glass like I did the tank, Kris realised. He doesn’t miss a thing, this guy.
“It did, thank you,” Kris replied. “I hope it was all right, I used the glass in the bathroom.”
“That’s fine. Just bring it to the kitchen to be washed afterwards. There’s a supply of them in the cabinet in the kitchen, above the glasses we use otherwise.”
Of course, there is.
Ishmael continued, “I’ll arrange for a jug of water and a glass to be placed on the bedside table for you in future, for when you’re sleeping in the bed.”
The salmon, which Kris was taking his third bite of, had tasted delicious up until that moment. He hadn’t missed that nuance.“When you’re sleeping in the bed” sounds like I will not always be sleeping in the bed. So where will I be sleeping? On a cushion? If so, why was I moved from the one I fell asleep on in his office?
He finished chewing and swallowed the mouthful of ashes it had become. He looked at his glass. It was empty. Ishmael saw his glance and reached for the carafe of water on the table and filled his glass.
Okay, no wine for me.
“Probably best to avoid to avoid alcohol in case of any lingering drugs in your system,” Israel said smoothly.
You mean where you guys drugged me during the trust exercise. And how does he do that? He always seems to know what I’m thinking.
Ishmael reached a handout and cupped Kris’ cheek. Kris stiffened in surprise but didn’t flinch. “So expressive,” Ishmael murmured before pulling back his hand.
The best of the meal passed by in silence. When Michel cleared their plates away, Ishmael asked him to save the dessert for later.
“Not a problem, sir. I’ll cut it into slices and place in a container in the fridge.” Michel beamed at Ishmael. “There’s enough apple cake for you to enjoy with coffee at breakfast as well.”
Ishmael’s face brightened. “Thank you. After the dishes, you may go.” He turned to look at Kris. “Äppelkaka is my favourite dessert. It’s an apple cake with almonds. There’ll be a vanilla sauce to pour over it, too.”
“That does sound delicious,” Kris said.
“Let’s call your mum and then we can have some coffee and cake,” Ishmael suggested.
