Asylum

Chapter 30: Dinner & Drinks

Emilio was standing with his back to the final moments of a brilliant sunset when we arrived on the main fore deck, one of his arms around Elena's hips, the other levering another fat cigar to his thin lips. The other two women were waiting in attendance at the deck railing, but when Sofia saw Ivan step on deck with me in tow, she sidled over to Emilio and sensually insinuated herself under his free arm. He looked at her in amusement, then, intuiting the reason for her abrupt display of interest, turned his head to watch our arrival. I kept my eyes glued to the hem of Ivan's suit jacket in front of me.

"Ahh, honored guests," Emilio drawled. He gathered the women in his arms closer to him and, as an afterthought, casually flipped the half-smoked cigar into the ocean. "I was starting to wonder if you were just going to fuck all the way through dinner!" He laughed loudly at his joke, and I felt Sofia's eyes drilling into my hairline. "But now, you are here, so let's eat." He led the way into the adjacent dining room, Lucia trailing behind and shooting me a timid smile in passing.

Emilio stopped at the head of the small table, which had been expanded and beautifully set to fit our party of six. He was dressed in a tasteful, slim-fitting dark blue suit that was, in my somewhat less fashion-forward opinion, ruined by a hot-pink silk shirt covered with large, lime green paisleys. The women were all in brightly colored cocktail dresses with snug bodices and body-hugging skirts; Sofia's was so short that while I could only pray that she was wearing underwear, I was pretty sure that we were all going to find out before the evening was over. Ivan and I alighted amongst them like a pair of ravens amongst a small pandemonium of parrots.

Emilio unwound his arms from his companions and gave them a gentle but unnecessary push toward the far end of the table. "Sofia," he ordered and pointed to the farthest chair, opposite his. "Elena," he finished, indicating the seat on Sofia's left hand. I followed Ivan to the other side of the table; he pulled out the chair at Sofia's right hand for me. I hoped that the woman mentally throwing daggers at me was not right-handed.

"Lucia," Emilio broke in quickly. "Te sientas allí (You sit over there)," he told her, pointing to the chair Ivan had just pulled out. All three of us hesitated for just an instant, until Ivan smiled at Lucia and gestured her into the chair. That only left the two chairs on either side of Emilio. There would be no under-the-table cues from Ivan to rely on this evening; I was on my own.

Ivan moved to pull out the chair next to Lucia, and I sat as though it were made of matchsticks. He touched my shoulders briefly after he pushed me in and went to take his seat on the opposite side of the table.

"Maravilloso (Wonderful)," Emilio beamed. "Now I can get to know your pretty chica better, sí?" Ivan's smile seemed relaxed; I was perhaps the only one to notice the slight tightness that appeared around his eyes.

Two wait staff, an older gentleman and the young man who had served me by the pool earlier, brought out the first course – a red snapper and shrimp ceviche – and contrary to everything I knew about etiquette, served the men first. I shot Ivan a doubtful look through my downcast lashes.

"No para ella (Not for her)," he said quickly as the young waiter began to put a plate in front of me. The youth hesitated and looked to Emilio, who waved him off. He put the dish in front of Lucia instead.

"You don't like ceviche?" Emilio asked me solicitously, but with a bit of an edge that had my already-raised red flags waving frantically.

"She doesn't eat meat," Ivan interjected.

"Really?" the Santiago princeling asked. He looked back at me, eyes narrowed. "Why? You don't like to eat the cute little animals?"

I froze.