"What about parents?" I suddenly ask, and their heads turn to me with a face that I shouldn't have asked.
"What?" Henry asks.
"Hey, sorry, I'm late." Darian walks to the table, takes a seat, and looks at me. "What were you guys talking about?"
"About mom and dad, where are they?" I question. I ignored the small amount of blood that was on his sleeve.
And trust me, when I see blood, I know it; it can't be mistaken for ketchup or wine.
"Oh, umm, father actually passed away a few years ago, and mother isn't mentally okay right now, but as soon as she gets better, we will take you to see her."
"Can I ask how he passed?" I ask.
Dorian's P.O.V
"He had heart problems," I say confidently, like I didn't just lie to her.
I can't tell her he was a fucking serial killer.
Suddenly I hear Henry whisper, "Your sleeve."
I look at it, and fucking hell, I've got blood on it.
I rolled my sleeves and continued to eat. I noticed how Azalea looked over my hands, and that's when I knew she saw it.
"My friend got some wine on my clothes," I tell Henry loud enough for her to hear.
'That's some thick wine'. I see she mouthed it to herself.
We didn't say anything for the whole dinner. I got up and went to my office to finish some paperwork.
When I remembered, there was something fishy going on with Azalea's history.
There are times when I can see what she is doing, but suddenly she disappears for a few years, and it appears like nothing happened.
I started to call her, and a minute later she was in my office.
"What's wrong?" she asks.
"I just wanted to ask, is there anything you want to tell me?" I ask, and nervousness shows immediately.
"No, why"
"I just want to know more about your life in Russia."
"Nothing interesting; I think you know how I lived there."
"Yes, but I don't know lots of things, and if there's something, you should tell me. I will always listen. I know I'm always working, and it's all new for you. You know, having siblings and not being alone, but we're here if you need to talk."
She looks at me like she's about to cry and says, "I will keep that in mind; I just like to keep my stuff private; I'm not used to telling people stuff."
"Of course." I nod, and she then walks away.
I know she's hiding something, but what is it?