Her laugh is so soft I barely hear it. “You’re interesting.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
I don’t look back.
But I feel her gaze burning between my shoulder blades like sunlight through a magnifying glass.
And I hate how aware of her I suddenly am.
Her scent—something faint like citrus and saltwater.
Her voice—smooth but edged with rebellion.
Her presence—impossible to ignore.
This is exactly why my mother warned me.
Exactly why I keep walls higher than this mansion’s ceilings.
Girls like Victoria Danforth don’t get tired.
They get what they want.
And me?
I can’t afford to be anything anyone wants.
By the time I return to the kitchen, Chef Arthur is screaming about something else, and the cooks are pretending not to hear him. My mother mouthsthank youto me, and I nod, pretending the encounter with Victoria hasn’t rattled me.
It has.
More than I’d like.
Meryl returns to the kitchen in time to curl her nose at the sight of me drenched in sweat from the trek with forty pounds of ice.
She nods at a roll of paper towels, the unspoken order clear, and pivots to my mom. “You’ll be given a weekly menu from Mrs. Danforth. Breakfast at seven. Lunch at one. Dinner at eight sharp. You prep, plate, and disappear. Any deviation and I hear about it.”
Mom nods. “Understood.”
Meryl turns to Elise. “Assign the boy the pantry and prep. Nothing to do with knives, though.”
Elise smirks at me, whispering under her breath so only I can hear, “Aw. They don’t trust you with sharp objects?”
“Not unsupervised.” I grin. “I wouldn't either.”
And I mean that. I’ve always been a little dark. The thrill I get from violence has danced beneath my skin for as long as I can remember. I’ve tried to ignore it, but apparently not hard enough. Seeing as it’s the reason Mom had to take this job.
Stabbing someone will do that.
Granted, only the families involved know, and I’m lucky enough not to be shipped off to juvie or now that I’m eighteen . . . jail, but Mom’s scared my luck will run out, so we moved. No forwarding address, just got up and left, and here we are.
Kind of dramatic if you ask me.
With a shake of my head, I try to pay attention to what everyone is talking about. Whatever I miss, I’m sure my mother will fill me in on, so I’m not that concerned.
After the lunch rush, I escape to the staff hallway, lean against the wall, and let out a heavy breath I’ve been holding in the pit of my stomach. The entire time in the kitchen, the staff kept going on and on about Victoria. It’s clear how much everyone here adores the girl.
