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I waited until 6:15 for Grace to come help me with dinner, but she had yet to arrive and as time passed so would Donovan's patience. I had no desire to experience what he was capable of on an empty stomach.
So I tried, and failed at what was supposed to be a roasted chicken and potato dish because, an hour into cooking, smoke began to rise from the stove and the smell of burnt meat flowed through the air.
I gasped, grabbing the nearest oven mit and opening the oven door where a gust of gray smoke clouded my view of the poultry.
I coughed, turning my head away and squinting my eyes. How could I have burned dinner? Heating a chicken didn't seem that difficult but within a short moment, Phil appeared, removing the dish from the oven and dropping it into the sink.
The gust of smoke slowly disappeared but Phil turned on the fan to speed up the process.
"Thank you." I muttered with a short sigh.
"You almost burned the house down." Phil stated. No fire alarm had went off so I doubted that the house would have burned down. Dinner did, but the house...? Over exaggerate much?
I placed the oven mit down and hurried to clean the mess I had made. This wasn't my kitchen and though I hated everything about this place, I didn't want to upset anyone.
"What happened?" I jumped at the sudden voice behind me, accidentally dropping the glass plate I held onto the ground where it landed with a loud crash. I yelped, jumping back instinctively.
"Shit!" I cursed, louder than expected and exhaled deeply. I couldn't even look back because I knew that Donovan and Phil were glaring at me. Or maybe they weren't but either way I didn't want to turn.
I felt my throat tighten and could feel tears welling up in my eyes. I wasn't sad, I was frustrated that I couldn't get anything right.
I heard steps coming closer behind me and I shut my eyes tight, ready to be scolded and yelled at.
"Turn around." Donovan demanded. Without hesitation, I did so and came face to face with a calm expressionless demeanor. He looked down at me and continued, "stop crying."
I wasn't crying. I was tearing and trying desperately hard to keep the tears suppressed by biting my lower lip until I tasted metallic.
"What happened Rosemary?" I inhaled a gulp of air. Wasn't it obvious? I screwed up everything.
"I burned the chicken Don-"
"No, what happened to you?" He looked at the sink then back at me. "Are you-off tonight?"
"It's just-" I paused and shook my head. I didn't need to tell him. I'd been "off" the entire time that I was held captive. He knew that so there was no point in repeating this all the damn time. I was stuck. Being a captive was no longer an excuse. "I'm okay." I lied.
Donovan nodded then checked his black leather watch.
"Put some shoes on and come with me."
"Huh?" Donovan turned and didn't bother to address my question. So I hurried out of the messy kitchen to get my sneakers on.
• • • • • •
My impression of the act of "being in hiding" was to keep a low profile and to also keep in a contained area so that your cover wasn't blown.
But apparently those rules didn't apply to Donovan and his crime syndicate since we pulled up to a compact diner in a black luxury car with the driver dressed in a cashmere burgundy pull over and black leather dress shoes. In no way was this incognito but maybe I had a cinematic view of going into hiding.
We walked in and he lead me straight to a booth in the back. It looked nothing like the diner I had once worked at. This place was long and had a dingy ambiance that reminded me of a slasher film setting. Maybe even film noir. The green leather seats of the booth were intact but still felt shrunken and warn. Even the menu on the wall seemed dated in its lettering and dim yellow backlight.
Perhaps I was correct about going incognito because I had a feeling this wasn't Donovan's restaurant of choice and if he could help it, he would've pulled up to The Ritz for an impromptu dinner.
"Order what you want but don't say you're not hungry." Donovan warned, not bothering to open his menu. He was actually doing something for me? A dinner and a choice? I knew this was a treat and I didn't want to cross him. Plus, I was starving!
"Okay." I complied and opened the menu, but paused and looked at him. "I'm sorry for burning the food-and-and dropping the plate." Then I looked back down, but noticed the corner of Donovan's lip slightly curve upward. So he found my clumsy nature amusing.
"'Evenin, what can I get you both?" An older woman asked, clicking her pen on an eight by five inch notepad in preparation.
Donovan looked at me and for the first time I noticed the soft glint behind his eyes that further humanized his character which juxtaposed his primal hostility toward me. It almost eased the nerves my body seemed to produce in his presence. It was clear that he was attractive physically, but that particular glint gave off an air of emotional attraction.
"Rosemary." I was taken out of my trance by Donovan's voice.
"Yes?"
"Order." He pointed to the waitress who stood patiently by.
"Oh uh-I don't-" I stammered. I had to speak more clearly around him. It was ridiculous that I could never get a sentence out. "I don't-know what to order." Now the waitress sighed.
"Do you need more time?" She asked.
I didn't know what I needed. I knew the items on the menu obviously. They were standard diner dishes: hamburger, cheeseburger, chicken fingers, fries, meatloaf, coffee. So why was I all of a sudden frozen in making a choice?
"Can you just bring two cheese steaks, fries, a coke for her and black coffee for me please." Donovan ordered, handing both of our menus to the waitress. She gave a nod before walking away to put in our order.
Donovan leaned back in the booth.
"Sorry-again."
"For?"
"Drawing a blank while ordering." I sighed. "We wouldn't even be here if I hadn't-"
"It was just chicken Rosemary. Stop mentioning it."
"It's a simple dish that I screwed up." Donovan studied me then chuckled.
"I'm assuming you don't cook often."
"I don't cook ever."
"Grace gave you a recipe?" I nodded while toying with the straw on the table.
"She said she'd be back for dinner but..." I trailed off.
"I only told you to cook with Grace so that you had something to do."His eyes looked past me as my coke and his coffee arrived. "Don't worry about it anymore."
It was weird being here with him but as long as we stayed on this general topic I would feel a bit better. How could he be so cruel one moment and then treat me to dinner the next with a new demeanor? I was tempted to ask him the million dollar question of why I had to be in hiding with him but maybe that would be pushing the envelope a bit too much.
However, I didn't mind this Donovan because even though he was still cold he was also likable. Maybe he was just misleading and maybe I was too gullible at the moment, but this was the first time that I felt less worried. Even at Lush I always felt worried that Steven would arrive and request me on a Monday rather than on a Friday just because he could. Or I would worry that my check and tips wouldn't reach a certain amount by the end of two weeks and I would be screwed for a rent payment. More importantly, even though I was twenty one, I worried that the foster system would come back for me and put me with the Bay family again. That miserable family that only kept me around to collect state cash. They didn't care about my pain, my anxiety, my fear. They were just like Steven. Everyone was like Steven.
"Donovan why are you keeping me!" I said aloud out of nowhere which caused the only other pair at the diner to look over at our booth.
Donovan had been looking out the window but he turned to look at me. However, he didn't budge at my outburst. His action made me immediately regret my words.
"Oh no." I gulped. "I have to go to the bathroom." I motioned to get up but Donovan caught my hand. His grip wasn't tight but it was firm and forced me to stay seated.
"Didn't I tell you not to ask me that." It wasn't a question but I nodded as if it were. "You have a hard time listening." He cocked an eyebrow. "Did Greene punish you when you didn't listen?" I pressed my lips together not wanting to revive any memories of punishment. They all were bad.
Donovan removed his hand slowly then stood up from his seat. He hovered over me like an impending nightmare but surprised me when he caressed the back of my neck with his hand then slowly weaved his fingers into my hair. With a light tug, he caused me to focus upward against my will and received an involuntary moan from me. Donovan bit his lip at my reaction.
"We'll fix that listening problem." He tugged harder. "Right?" My lips parted from the exhilarating pressure.
"Y-yes."
"Yes, who?" He asked in a lower tone. I closed my eyes only for a second then corrected myself.
"Yes, Donovan." He narrowed his eyes then released his grip on my hair, giving my chin a gentle touch.
"Good girl."