“Sorry,” I said. “Just popping up to raid the pantry.”
Jacques plastered on a bright smile, even though his dark eyes were wary. His hair was slicked back and pulled into a ponytail today, and he was dressed down, the way he often did when the Triton family flitted off to New Atlantis. “Please, I can prepare something.”
Kendra and Maribella vibrated with tension, passing each other worried glances. Clearly, they wondered what I’d overheard. Not enough.
The sense of being a trespasser had followed me around in this place wherever I went, never being able to settle. Even in the house I’d grown up in, I’d never felt a sense of ease, a mythical idea of home. The one person I’d experienced comfort around, I’d scared off.
And I missed their presence more and more with each passing day.
“I don’t want to put you out,” I commented, heading to the cabinet.
“Not a problem,” Jacques said. “I’m here, and quite frankly, I’m bored.”
“Well, I need to get back to the laundry,” Maribella said, taking the first steps in the opposite direction. Her expression was shuttered—to be expected, I supposed.
“Me too.” Kendra followed close on her heels, eager to escape the awkwardness.
I settled on one of the stools at the island, and Jacques pulled out several containers from the fridge. I’d tried to help before, and he’d smacked my hand with his spoon, so I no longer attempted it. Slight tension remained, buzzing between us, growing louder by the second.
He turned on the stove range and set a pan there, then doused it with a drizzle of oil. The sizzle of garlic hitting the hot pan echoed in the quiet between us.
My nerves couldn’t take it anymore.
“I won’t say anything,” I blurted out.
“Call me naïve, but I didn’t think you would,” he said, even though his shoulders relaxed. “I know you’re marrying into the family, but you don’t seem close to any of the Tritons.” He glanced back at me. “A certain cecaelia, on the other hand…”
A furious blush heated my cheeks. He wasn’t wrong. And Jacques was far more observant than anyone gave him credit for. “I couldn’t even tell you where any of the Tritons are this week. They’ve been keeping me in the dark.”
Jacques shook his head, letting out a low hum. “That’s their modus operandi. It’s not personal, but I can imagine you’re feeling a bit adrift.”
I scrubbed at my face. “Tell me about it. I went from a household where I was micromanaged to one where I’m essentially abandoned.”
The scent of garlic and tomato filtered through the air, and my stomach rumbled. He seemed to be whipping up a sort of pasta dish, if the bubbling pot of water beside the pan was any indication. Everything Jacques made turned out lovely, and I had never been a picky eater. My mouth watered.
“You know, it’s not too late to escape,” Jacques mentioned. This hadn’t been the first time he’d warned me away from this place, and my body hummed with a sense of danger at his words. The comment might’ve been delivered simply, but the seriousness that dwelled behind the statement wasn’t lost on me.
“Where would I go?” I said. “Some spoiled rich kid with no access to funds? I don’t have any useful skills.”
He shook his head. “That what they’d have you believe? I’ve seen your paintings. That sort of talent belongs in a gallery.”
“Which takes time to build,” I replied. “Not like I can chew on some canvas when I’m hungry.”
Still, the idea of running off sparked in my brain, burning brighter than ever. What was to stop me? The Tritons were rarely here, and they didn’t seem concerned about keeping a leash on me.
Jacques didn’t respond at first, plating the meal he’d worked on with the panache and speed of a professional. My stomach rumbled, the hunger I’d ignored for hours taking precedence as he brought over the decadent pasta dish, bright tomatoes and zucchini giving it color.
“Thank you,” I said, gratitude burning in my gut. Not just for the meal, but also for the fact he encouraged me to leave. That he was willing to be as honest as he could with me, even though it came with risk. Maybe because he planned on leaving himself, but I appreciated the concern nonetheless.
“Careful with the contracts,” Jacques said as he leaned against the kitchen island. “That’s a slippery slope you can ask Ursuline about.”
My gut simmered. Marriage was a binding contract, but guaranteed I’d also be required to sign a prenup. And I doubted they’d let me use an independent lawyer to make sure my best interests were taken care of. What did Jacques mean about Ursuline? They were the main family lawyer for the Tritons, but was a contract involved in why they worked for them? Ursuline had always danced around the subject, and now that we’d kissed, I wasn’t sure they’d even entertain a conversation, let alone a personal one.
My chest throbbed at the thought. I’d been squirreling away moments with them, savoring each one like a glass of ice water in the middle of the desert. The idea of not having any more senta spike of pain through me. I speared a few pieces of pasta with my fork and chewed a bite in an effort to distract myself. The richness of tomato and garlic burst on my tongue, and I savored the flavors for a moment.
“So what you’re saying is that my window is quickly closing,” I murmured. Because we’d begin talking wedding dates soon, and guaranteed the prenup would come next. Frederick had made veiled threats due to my knowing their secret, and once I was tied to the family for good, I was sure there’d be more to carry. The prospect made my stomach roil.
“I—” Jacques started to say, when he stood ramrod straight.
