I feel my heart sink a little. He doesn’t seem upset per se, but sometimes people are able to hide it well. The fact that he’s insisting I meant it doesn’t bode well for me, though. “I…I didn’t mean any offense.”
He chuckles and sets down his glass, looking at me for a long moment before he leans forward again. “Are you scared of me, leannán?”
“I…do you want me to be scared of you?” I ask with furrowed brows. He keeps calling me that name, and I wonder what it means. Is he making fun of me to my face without me even knowing? It wouldn’t be the first time. Maybe that’s just whathe’s doing in general with me. He’s just toying with me, poking at the ugliest fish in the aquarium that’s struggling to swim.
His chuckling turns into full laughter. “That’s not what I asked.” He shakes his head. “Did your grandparents train you to be so…performative?”
I frown. “Yes and no. I’m autistic and a woman,societyhas trained me to be performative, or else.”
“Or else what?” His eyes glimmer with an intense interest that takes me aback.
I let out a long exhale. “It’s hard to explain. Or else I won’t belong. Or else people will be unhappy with me, even my parents. And, when you’re a child, that feels like a death sentence. Belonging is the desire of all humans, isn’t it? No one wants to be shunned and isolated.”
He stares at me for a long moment before leaning back in his chair. “And yet, you think you’re not interesting. Hm.”
“I’m not. This is just…basic psychology stuff.” I shrug.
He opens his mouth to respond, but then a waitress comes up, smiling brightly. “Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Alasdair. Here’s your menu. Can I get you something to start with? Coffee, tea?”
I expect Alasdair to correct her calling meMrs. Alasdair,but he doesn’t. In fact, he smirks a little and shoots me a glance before turning back to the waitress. He orders us some coffee, somehow knowing exactly what I’d order.
I arch my brow. “How’d you know how I take my coffee? We’ve only gone to the coffee shop once, and that’s different.”
He waves me off. “Some things are easy to pick up on. Now, let’s not get distracted. It may be ‘basic psychology stuff,’ but the fact you understand it so seamlessly and how it applies to your life is rare. And exciting.”
I arch my brow. “All right. If you say so, I guess I’ll take the compliment.” I chuckle to make my comment light.
He watches me as the waitress delivers our coffees, and then takes our orders. I’m getting the eggs benedict with bacon on the side, he’s getting a cheese, tomato, and basil omelet with sausage on the side.
In fact, he doesn’t take his eyes off of me the entire meal. No wonder the man is practically a mafia god, he knows how to intimidate. And yet, it doesn’t quite feel like that’s what he’s trying to do. I don't know what heistrying to do, but it doesn’t feel like he’s trying to scare me.
“You never answered my question.” He sips his coffee while maintaining eye contact over the rim.
I drink my own coffee to buy myself time. “Which one was that?” I know what he’s referring to, but I’m putting off answering, since I’d really rather not discuss this. I’m not sure what I’d prefer to discuss with him, but notthat. Not when I feel like he might use it against me.
He chuckles, low and raspy. “You’re a smart girl. You know what I’m talking about.”
I sigh, wishing he hadn’t called my bluff. “I don’t think ‘scared’ is the right word for it.”
He leans forward again. “Then, do tell, whatisthe correct word, Ms. Astero?”
“I’m…aware. Of what you’re capable of. I don’t know how else to put it. I’m not interested in provoking you. I…respect you, maybe that’s a better word.”
A strange gleam grows in his eyes. I’m not quite sure what to make of it. I haven’t seen it before in someone and it confuses me. His grip tightens on his coffee mug. “I see. Thank you for the clarification.”
I nod. “Yeah. No problem.” It’s quiet for a moment, and I look at my coffee, focusing on drinking it. I know I should speak up and continue the conversation, but I’m not sure whatto say. My mind is racing, unable to come up with a thread of conversation to follow.
Our food arrives shortly after, much to my relief. This way I can focus on eating, giving me something to do. I can still see him looking at me in my peripheral vision, but I ignore it.
He doesn’t speak for the rest of the meal, which I appreciate. Honestly, I’m not sure how I’m going to get through the rest of the day with him, since everything just feels so tense. There’s such high stakes. I feel like one verbal misstep will send me hurtling down the proverbial cliff. He’s a dangerous man. At any moment, he might get sick of this arrangement and decide to finish it. And the only way to get the docks while still ending the arrangement, is to endme.
I’m walking a social tightrope and neither of my legs are trained or steady. That’s how it feels.
If I can’t even handle a day with him, how am I going to handle a lifetime?
18
Kerry
