She laughs as Julian takes a bite, peeping open one eye to stare at her as if he too is curious. “I don’t hate him. Besides, even if I did, I don’t want to see him suffer.”
“Hmm,” I reply, watching her as she spoon-feeds this rich pompous asshole back to life. Hot and bighearted. I’m intrigued.
She turns toward me, glancing over her shoulder with a smirk on her face that I’d like to kiss right off. “Help yourself. There’s plenty in there.”
Consider me curious. I reach into the bag and lift out another glass dish with a snap-on lid. Pulling it open, I stare down at small hand pies that smell spicy and delicious. Picking one up, I take a bite and immediately moan with delight.
“Holy shit, where did you get these?”
“I made them,” she replies with a laugh.
“Fuck me,” I groan around another bite.
When I open my eyes, I see that Julian has started to regain some strength. He takes the dish and fork from Freya and continues to feed himself. When he finally speaks, his voice is raspy, and he still has a slight wheeze.
“It is…delicious,” he mumbles quietly.
Freya’s spine straightens as she leans toward him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you.”
He rolls his eyes. “Too bad. I’m not saying it again.”
She shakes her head at him as she leans against the wall, stretching out her legs so they meet ours in the middle of the elevator. Then she reaches for one of the pies in the dish on my lap.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “I heard him say it.”
“Thanks.”
When her eyes meet mine, I swear I get lost in them. There is something sharp and sexy about her expression that draws me in.
“Does this mean I can keep my job?” she asks Julian.
He’s wearing a flat, unenthused expression as he stares at her through hooded eyes. His nonresponse makes me laugh.
“So how do you two know each other?” I ask.
Freya takes another bite. “His sister is my best friend. His parents have an anniversary party coming up, and they hired me to cater it, buthetried to take it away from me.”
Julian doesn’t even bother arguing. He still looks like he’s on the brink of death. But he’s not hyperventilating anymore, and he can lift his limbs, so that’s an improvement.
“Why would he do that?” I ask.
“I don’t know. Ask him,” she says, pointing toward him with a half-eaten hand pie.
“You said it yourself,” he mumbles to her. “I’m miserable, and I try to make everyone around me miserable too.”
His answer sort of bums out the energy in the small space, so no one responds.
The three of us eat in silence, and I think it starts to kick in to all of us that we might be stuck in here for a while. An hour passes by before I sense the growing agitation.
Julian looks miserable, and Freya’s knee is bouncing as she worries her lip in her fingers. I need to distract them. Get them talking or something.
“Hey, Jules,” I say, knocking his shoe with mine. “What do you do for a living?”
For some reason, this makes Freya chuckle.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
“Go ahead, Julian,” she says, ignoring my question. “Tell him.”
