Her whole body stilled, and she breathed shallowly. “For some reason, I think I owe you a thank you.”
My lips twitched as much as they would in actual humor. I wanted to ralph in her face. “You’re welcome.”
She nodded once curtly and went back to conversing with Zane next to her as if nothing was wrong…except her shoulders were extremely stiff.
Daniil ordered his food, and I ordered a chicken noodle soup and some crackers. That seemed like a safe bet to me. I closed my eyes and didn’t care if I was rude. I was waiting for a story to fix the one I had done the night before, and that was all. The conversation continued around me, Daniil speaking to Artur about Black City, the club he ran and owned. Artur asked him about issues he needed some advice on. I learned through their dialogue Daniil might be fierce-scary, but he was extremely business savvy. Hell, I didn’t even understand some of the financial aspects that he spoke of, or the employment laws here in the United States he referenced.
When the food arrived, the scent of Grigori’s crab wafted through the air.
I just about puked in my mouth. “Jesus. That smells awful.” I was being ill-mannered, but it just blurted out. And his food smelled like the boat did I had rocked on all day.
“Smells awful?” Ember asked, taking a big bite of her pasta that didn’t look so bad.
“Yeah.” I breathed softly, focusing on my soup. My chair felt like it moved under me, even though I knew it wasn’t. I was never going on a damn boat again.
Daniil started rubbing my back, and I slurped at my soup—until I spied the big piece of wheat bread on his plate. I didn’t even ask. I just took it and bit into it with relish. I swallowed it down with the Sprite he ordered for himself.
God, he did it again. His order was much better than mine.
“Papa…” Grigori spoke softly.
I swallowed hard as another waft of his salty crab came my way.
Daniil didn’t seem to hear him, talking right over him. “Here. We’ll switch again…since you’ve already eaten half of it, anyway.” He switched the plates.
I sighed in relief, staring down at simple spaghetti and meatballs. “Thank you.” Jesus, I sounded pathetic even to my own ears. I slapped a hand over my mouth, my gaze darting to Grigori’s plate, bile rising further. Fucking disgusting is what was on his plate. And the damn air conditioning was blowing its stench my way.
“You know…” Grigori stated slowly, obviously seeing my distress, “I’m not really that hungry.” I didn’t look at him because I was a little embarrassed, but I heard him call the waitress over. His plate blessedly disappeared. I was betting Daniil must have given him some sort of scowl because Grigori didn’t seem the kind type to me.
I tried not to pay attention to the quietness of the conversation around me, everyone probably staring. I was here to right what was going to become a wrong very shortly. I didn’t know what time hubby was supposed to show, but I just had to make it until then. After that, I could go and quickly write my article and pass out. Tomorrow I had better be able to walk right. Otherwise, I was going to the fucking doctor. The bathroom I spent most of my day in hadn’t looked particularly sanitary.
I ate the spaghetti while Daniil rubbed on my back, his movements never faltering even as he ate my soup one handed. Feeling a little guilty, I tried to give him the rest of the delicious bread, but he wouldn’t have it. He literally tore a piece off and placed it in my mouth when I started to argue. The waitress filled his coffee cup, and I sniffed the air experimentally.
Daniil stiffened next to me. Glancing my way, he paused with the cup in the air, halfway to his mouth. “Does the coffee bother you? I can have her take it back if it does.”
It was like the whole table shut up. I glanced at the tables occupants as they all stared at Daniil. I seriously never met another group quite like this one. “No. It actually smells pretty good.” I pointed down the table weakly at Torrez’s plate—lobster. “It’s overriding the seafood smell from his plate.”
Daniil’s eyes unfocused. He asked, “You can smell his plate from down there?”
I nodded slowly, glancing around as everyone still stared at us. My eyebrows snapped together in irritation. “Yes. I was on a boat all day with that shit. It’s disgusting.” I raised my hands, completely fed up, and asked the entire table, “Seriously! Is our fucking conversation any of your damn business?”
I glared at anyone who didn’t look away immediately.
Stash stated not so quietly, “Somebodies PMSing.”
“No…” I stopped and considered that. Yeah, I probably was. “It’s just rude to stare at someone while they’re having a private convo. If you’re going to eavesdrop, at least do it with some damn skill.” I slammed my mouth shut, sitting back on my seat quickly, realizing I was being a major bitch. I bit my lip and moved my attention back to my plate. It was probably best to keep quiet.
That way they wouldn’t do their ‘thing.’ And I wouldn’t yell at them when they did.
Ember held up her glass of gross non-alcoholic wine, actually being kind. “You know, when I have an upset stomach,” she twirled the red liquid around in her glass, “this helps settle it. Do you want some?” She stared at me hard. Odd.
Even before I could say no thank you, Daniil told her quickly, “Ember, if she wanted that in the first place, she would have ordered it. Just let her eat in peace.”
Placing my hand on Daniil’s leg, I gazed back at Ember, where she stared at Daniil over my head with that horrible dead coolness in her eyes. “Thank you. But he’s right. I don’t want that right now.”
Her gaze flew to me, nodding even as her eyes went all freaky as she…looked me up and down from head to toe. “You’re welcome. It doesn’t work for everyone, anyway.”
I ate again. I was determined not to yell at anyone anymore tonight…
