He did it.
He drank the entire glass, downed it like it was freaking water from the falls.
Why am not as relieved as I thought I'd be? Before I can let my thoughts bleed out, a voice barks from the doorway.
"Tell that Mark to get his shit straight?!" Pietro walks in with a landline pressed to his ear. Just when I thought this morning couldn't get any worse.
Don't get me wrong, I was never a hateful person but if theres anyone I despise more than Silas, its his father.
Mister O' Hare.
He wears a crown of shoulder length black hair, always growls at me whenever I'm alone, and is not the slightest bit intimidating compared to his son, who must have gotten his height from his mother considering Pietro stops at my nose.
He sits down, giving me a gruelling look when he realises I'm here too, and I lower my head. It takes me a moment to notice the visual warning Silas gives to his father.
"Your food Mr Cavallaro." The maid warily places down a plate and Pietro wastes no time before digging in, gnawing at the bones of the meat that once lay in a pile at the side.
Maybe switching to vegan would be my New Years goal, I think while tapping my nails against my sticky yoga pants.
I'm waiting.
There's no change in Silas. His skin still has that stupidly perfect glow, and he isn't coughing up foam like what happens in the movies.
Thank god I guess? A sigh falls from my mouth. I hate how relieved I am, but it doesn't last long. Food with the Cavallaro's is never not unnerving.
I glance at Silas, who's attention is weirdly imbedded in his father. Eyes upturned with a terrifying mischief. Not a single thought behind that detached gaze.
Something is going down.
Something, though I'm not sure what.
"Cosa nel..." Pietro mutters, skin alarmingly pale. His temple falls on his hand and he sets down his fork with a quickness that has everyone glancing his way.
Suddenly, he's not on his chair anymore.
"Oh my god." I gasp as I stand, staring down at Pietro who practically looks dead. Hair sprawled around his head. Skin glossed with sweat. I try checking his pulse but his eyes are already closed.
The maids drop their things and run to the guards. The guards call for a doctor.
And then there's Silas.
So composed, so smug atop his wooden throne its like nothing in this world could destroy his peace. I vow to do just that.
"Silas do something!!" I rasp, but then the guards take away what I imagine is Pietro's dead, sweaty body.
A range of voices, some Italian, others English tunnel away as they leave the kitchen, and then its quiet.
What the hell just happened?
Sweeping a strand of hair from my face, I sit down, staring at the french doors leading outside. Its starting to snow again.
"Doesn't any of this feel creepy to you?" I ask, facing him. "You sat there and watched your father die-"
"He's not dead Catalina, you of all people know that."
"How would I-" My sight stops on the half-full glass of juice Pietro just drank. No.
VOCÊ ESTÁ LENDO
Deception
Romance"I don't want to eat." His eyes narrow a fraction of an inch, but at this point I don't even care if I piss off the great Cavallaro. Last night was hell enough, I'd like to see what else he can do with me. When he's done removing his watch, Silas s...
