The Price of Love

◆ 13 ◆

It was silent at the dinner table.

Forks clinked genially at their respective plates and the soft, bovine sound of food being grinded up in five different jaws was the only other sound, with the occasional noise of a throat being cleared or the thunk of a glass being put down. Other than that, no conversations drifted up. There wasn't even any eye contact. They kept their heads bowed, chewing thoughtfully. Helpless to do anything further, I followed suit.

Food was spread all across the lengthy dining table, but I couldn't eat more than a few bites. I pushed pieces of broccoli around on my plate, cutting each in half with a knife and then into halves again. I carefully erected a statue of Caius's face from my mashed potatoes, and then immediately smashed it when I noticed him staring at me. I took a bite of the steak, wondering if it should have tasted as strange as it did.

We needed the keys.

Even states away from my home, the food was the same. Exotic spices were used, no preservatives could be found anywhere, the calories were all so meticulously prepared. It was the tasteless food of the wealthy, and as I chewed it, a feeling of disdain slowly gathered in my bones. Somehow I felt as though I was being coddled all the same- processed foods surely weren't all that bad. Was a bag of Cheetos really going to kill me? Oh, I knew the answer. My mother would have said-

Of course it would, Daphne! How could you suggest such a thing? Baby, you don't need to eat chain store food when the personal chef can cook you up a five-star gourmet meal in thirty minutes. So few calories yet such flavor! I don't know how they do it. I must give Georgie a raise. His shrimp scampi has been fantastic lately-

It was in his pocket.

And the thick silence settled overhead was familair too. With a father whose life revolved around a company and a mother whose life revolved around being the best at everything, dinner table talk was foreign to me. I learned how to carry a fake conversation filled with overly sweet compliments and gaudy gossip before I even hit puberty. To be wealthy was to be a facade. For my mother, it had to be a perfect one. No cracks in the smiles, no compliment unaccepted, no laughter cut short. 

The balcony door would not open without its key.

I ate my food silently, obediently. Everything suddenly seemed more chewy. Forcing myself to swallow, I picked up my glass of water. Tommy, sitting adjacent to Phoenix who was across from me, kept his fork poised above his plate but didn't pick up anything. My fingers trembled around the icy condensation of the glass, so I tightened my grip. Tommy stabbed a broccoli piece and put it in his mouth. I took a sip of water, feeling the iciness slide down my throat. Tommy chewed. I put the glass down and it seemed to make a louder sound than necessary. Caius's eyes snapped up.

Feeling my heart beating in my skull, I kept my gaze down and drew rivers in the mashed potatoes with the tip of the dinner knife.

It was in his pocket.

The balcony doors were locked.

We needed the keys.

Caius's fork clattered against his plate when he dropped it.

Tommy coughed.

I didn't look at him. I looked at Caius, who was still watching me. My heart was in my throat. There was nothing protecting me from him except my very skin. I felt as though it was transparent, like he could see right through me. There was something exceptional about his eyes, something more than human. I was opaque. He knew. He knew. He must have known, or else he wouldn't have been looking at me in such a manner. And yet, my skin was still there. For Tommy, I would do it. He wanted to escape as much as I did. It was for Tommy that I forced my heart back down to its rightful place and opened my mouth.

"I need to speak to you after dinner."

Even the chewing seemed to stop. 

Caius's eyes were passive as he gazed at me. After a moment of silence, he nodded. 

I let out a quiet breath. Against all better judgement, my eyes flashed up to Tommy's. He was watching me with no expression, which I was thankful for. I was having enough trouble keeping my own face composed. Tommy was the member, he could not break his facade. I could cry and scream and kick all I wanted and Caius wouldn't bat an eye. But Tommy couldn't ever.

Oh, God. How could we do this? How was I going to follow through with my promise? It was a dangerous plan, so reckless....and what if it didn't work? What if...

No. 

It would. 

I could not think negatively. It was too change to change the plan. Midnight was in 3 hours and my nerves were already shot. The air conditioned manor wished upon my bare legs a whole slew of goosebumps, but I was not going to change into something warmer just yet. 

Men were men. 

Caius may have suppressed his emotions until they were completely dimmed, but he was not lost on seduction. No. I had to believe in myself. After all, hadn't I been playing the tease my entire life? Hadn't the greasy concept of false flattery been ingrained in me since I turned thirteen? If flirting was going to save my life, then I would lower myself to it.

We needed the key to the balcony door.

It was what my mother would have told me to do. With the ditzy life of a billionaire's wife, she had mastered the art of seduction to get her way. From her, I knew the power of what a few careful words could do. Just thinking of her brought the itchy feeling of tears behind my eyes, so I stopped. I would do this for her and Tommy, if not for myself.

Perhaps I was overanalyzing things, but there had to be a reason behind having years and years of candid photographs of me. Perhaps it was a money vendetta or a blood revenge, or perhaps it was something a little more dangerous...perhaps it was an obsession. 

My heart would only take me as far as my hope would let it, so I had to hold onto something, even a little scrap of something, to believe that Caius could become a broken man. I just had to find the words to make the first crack.

Caius had all the keys to the locked doors, and I had on the shortest dress I could find.