Tired of watching her huddled in a corner and staring out the window—thereby ignoring me—I call out to her.
"I'll drop you off at the port, and you can take the next ferry back to Sicily." She turns her head slightly to look at me and gives me a curt nod.
Where is the little tigress from before? Somehow, my conscience feels the need to suddenly appear as I continue.
"It shouldn't be too hard. I'll leave you some money for a ticket. The ferries run pretty regularly."
She nods again, her expression bored.
"Thank you," she says, then turns her head to look out the window again.
For a second, I'm pissed at her blatantly ignoring me, but then I worry that something might be wrong.
I stand up, and in two strides, I'm next to her. I lift my arm and touch her forehead with the back of my hand, checking her temperature.
She flinches and moves back, the gesture taking her by surprise. She raises her eyes to look at me, her brows furrowing in confusion.
"No one said you could touch me," she says through gritted teeth, her voice a mix of annoyance and defiance.
"Are you ill?" I rotate my hand to grab her wrist, bringing her closer so I can feel the temperature of her skin.
"Let go of me," she tries to push me off, but I'm not deterred. Gliding my hand across her forehead, I note she doesn't have a fever.
"Easy, little savage. I just wanted to make sure you wouldn't die on me."
She fixes her eyes on me, and I'm shocked at the amount of disdain I see in them. It seems my little tigress hasn't forgiven me for manhandling her—not that I've apologized for it.
Maybe I should apologize? I stop to think for a second. I've never apologized toanyonebefore, and she certainly won't be the first. I mentally scoff at that. My casual cordiality is all she's getting.
Just then, I hear a growly sound, like something reverberating in the air. I frown, worried it might be another engine approaching. But one look at Allegra tells me that's not the case. Her eyes widen, and she pushes at me to take a step back.
"You're hungry," I state, and she makes a poor attempt to deny it.
"You're hungry," I repeat, and without waiting for her protest, I take her hand and lead her to the kitchen.
"No, I'm not," she repeats, but she's not even looking me in the eye. Why did I think she was a good actress before? She clearly can't lie to save her life.
"Sit!" I push her shoulders down into a chair and turn to look at the groceries I'd bought.
"Are you so bossy with everyone?" she mutters under her breath. I don't think she cares if I hear her or not because when I turn to her, she just shrugs.
"Yes. And usually, people obey me too."
"Or what? You stab them with your knife?" she asks, andeven though I have my back to her now, I bet she's rolling her eyes at me.
"No. I reserve that for disobedient little girls. The others just meet the end of my gun," I say casually and return to my task. I quickly assemble a plate with some cheese, ham, salami, and fresh bread, and I place it in front of her.
She's skeptical as she narrows her eyes at the food, but there's also a glint of want in her gaze. Another low noise resounds in the small room, and I try my best to stifle a smile.
She's starving, even if she doesn't want to admit it.
"You didn't put any poison on this, did you?" She picks up a piece of ham and brings it to her nose, sniffing it.
"You know, there are odorless poisons out there too."
"Wow, thanks. That makes me trust you even more."
"Why would you not? I saved you from your death," I smirk at her.
