CHAPTER TWO
PALATE
SHE HAD STOOD in front of the wooden door. The crème color complimented the darker colors of the hallway. A golden nameplate was front and center, demanding her attention. The plate was crisply engraved. She read the words, nerves beginning to set in.
Hannibal Lecter, PhD., Head of Psychology Department.
The professor obviously had academic acclaim, the word following the comma being evidence of such. He was a department head, someone of importance to the university. And he had invited her - a second year that had nothing to do with his department or anything of value to give - to talk with him.
A few weeks prior Dr. Lecter had invited her to "drop by his office" and talk about literature and psychology with him. For some reason, she found herself excited by the idea. Perhaps it was a middle finger to her brother. Maybe she was fascinated by the man. Either way, she found herself in front of his office door. She found herself knocking.
A few seconds passed, her stomach bubbled with anticipation. What if he was busy? What if he was doing something important? What if she had interrupted him?
The relentless questions running through her mind immediately ceased when the door opened. Now in full view was the professor, looking impeccable like every other time she had seen him. His head titled slightly, his eyebrow quirked.
"Do you have an appointment?"
Abigail froze, her eyes wide. If she had been a deer stuck in the headlights - which she was - she would have been hit by the oncoming vehicle. Every muscle in her body froze. She couldn't open her mouth to speak. Her mind gave her no words to even do so.
The man's serious expression faded to one of amusement. "I was only playing, Abigail."
Relief washed through her. "I was wondering when you would grace me with your presence."
He stepped aside, welcoming her into his office. Stepping past the threshold, he closed the door behind her.
His office was just as immaculate in appearance as he was every time she saw him. The office had an art nouveau style to it. The palette was grey with some specific points of intense color. The room was filled with European furniture that reflected his roots. In the middle of the room was a midcentury desk, an ultra-tight leather tucked desk chair close behind it. Two modern gray chairs were placed facing one another in front of the desk, end tables next to both. The room was decorated with pieces from all periods, both antique and modern.
However, what caught the interest of the young woman was the second story. The second story of his office was lined with shelves full of books. Only accessible by ladder, it reminded her of the North Carolina state library she had visited as a child.
"It's beautiful," she spoke, her attention reluctantly returning to him. Her curiosity begged her to ascend the ladder and skim the book titles.
"Thank you, Abigail. I decorated it to impress."
And intimidate.
"I am impressed, to say the least." She told him truthfully, feeling rather small in such an intricate place.
The interior design of the places she had traveled to and her own home were impressive... but not as impressive as this. The professor had created a museum and hidden it in the university behind a closed door.
"Would you care for a drink?" He asked, starting towards a corner of the room.
"Are you allowed to offer students alcohol?" Teasing in her words.
"My office hours are over for the day. As far as I'm concerned, we're just two adults." He turned to look at her still standing where he left her, "Wine or beer?"
"Beer."
He nodded, fixing her a glass of beer and himself wine. "I ferment and bottle it myself."
By the time he was ready to give her the glass, she was sitting on the grey couch close to the curtained windows. Good, she was becoming more relaxed.
He handed her the glass, using his own to do a small cheers with her. "To your bravery. I'm sure it was no easy task going behind your brother's back to come and talk to me."
She hummed quietly, letting the liquid pass through her lips. Her palate was immediately met with the earthy taste of pine and citrus. It was sharp and warm, her tastebuds reveling in it.
"I taste citrus and pine."
Lecter smirked after he took a sip of his own drink. "You have quite a keen palate." He replied. He was complimenting her; She just didn't know it.
"My parents were specific about what they allowed their children to eat. Only the finest foods produced by the best chefs would do."
Overbearing parents? Perfect.
"It must be hard," he started, sitting down next to her, "Having overbearing parents and an arrogant brother. Tell me, Abigail. Is he the favorite?"
She laughed, almost letting the alcohol escape her mouth. "Is he the favorite? Dr. Lecter, he's the sole heir to the Blackwater fortune. I was never even considered for the will. If my parents were to die today, my brother would be left with everything. I would have nothing but the clothes on my back and the bag in my hand. Even then my brother would still try to take that away from me."
Her situation couldn't have been any more perfect for his plan even if he had created it himself. Fortune and Fate were truly on his side.
"And how does all of this make you feel?" He pressed, wanting - no needing - to get inside of her head.
"Are you trying to psychoanalyze me, Dr. Lecter?" She looked him directly in the eyes. For a millisecond he thought she had caught on. But then she began to giggle. "I'm only playing. We can't help but be curious about others. And as Head of the Psychology Department, I would expect nothing less from you."
His eyebrows raised, another sip from his wine taken. "I apologize, Abigail. It is only out of pure curiosity I inquire such things. Psychoanalysis of a student is not my intention. Unless, of course, there is something truly remarkable about your mind." Another sip. "Tell me, is there?"
The brunette shook her head profusely, "Not at all."
"Pity. I would have loved to have a reason to have more in-depth conversations with you."
His comment stung slightly. It left a chip on her heart, a burn in her throat.
"Who says you need one?"
"My career." He said matter of factly, feigning indifference. "If someone was to take notice of a student and professor spending too much time together for no reason at all... rumors would fly. My career, my whole life, could slip through my fingers."
"I could find a reason." She couldn't say why but she felt the need to have more conversations with this man. He was magnetic and she was drawn to him. Her whole life she had been a shadow but now someone was treating her like a light.
"And what would that be?"
She was walking into his trap. She was giving herself a reason to see him. A reason he hadn't put in her mouth. She would believe the idea of continuing to see him as her very own.
"Let me choose a book from your collection. When I've finished, we can discuss it to exhaustion. If I need to, just as a safety net, I can write reports on my readings and incorporate our conversations into them. That way, if anyone points a finger, we have proof that our conversations are academic and professional."
He stared at his wine, pretending to mull over the idea in his brain. He looked back up, a slight smirk on his lips. "You should go pick your first book, Miss Blackwater."
Her lips instantly curled into a smile, her straight teeth on display. "Thank you, Dr. Lecter." She handed him her glass and quickly scampered over to the ladder.
He had watched as she ascended it. He had watched as her finger traced over the spines as she walked past the multiple bookcases. He had watched as she pulled one from the shelf. He had watched as she showed it to him for approval. He had watched as she descended the ladder. He just watched, his eyes never faltering.
"I expect to hear from you in a week."
She nodded in understanding.
After goodbyes were exchanged, he had watched as she left.
Now, three hours later, he watched her from his car. The window to her dorm room was open, giving him an unobstructed view of her. She was laying on her bed, stomach to the mattress, ankles crossed, book open and in hand.
After one conversation she was already doing what he asked. He had her right where he wanted her.