I assume he’s talking about the house, but his creepy gaze is locked on something behind me—the alcohol cart?
I turn to look and see the maid by the cart, wiping up a little spill, flashing Mateo an apologetic look, like she’s just cost him thousands of dollars. Which I guess she might’ve; Mateo doesn’t go cheap on his liquor.
“It’s fine,” Mateo murmurs, taking the glass she just refilled for him.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers.
He smiles at how nervous she is, shaking his head. “Spills happen, Elise.” Nodding in my direction, he adds, “Try not to spill any on Adrian, huh?”
I want to tell him I’m fine, I don’t need any more—I’m not as comfortable with people serving me as he is—but the little blonde girl is already bringing the decanter my way. I watch as she pours it without looking at me, at her pretty face, flushed with embarrassment. Her blonde hair, escaping the neat bun she has it pulled back into. Her blue eyes briefly land on mine, but apparently intimidated by me, she quickly flits away to refill this Rick guy’s drink.
“How old are you, honey?” he asks, his gaze moving over her body.
“Me? Um, 16.”
Rick lifts his eyebrows, glancing back at Mateo, then back to her. “Wow. Young.”
“Yeah,” I agree, since he’s still looking at her like a piece a meat. “Real young.”
“Haven’t seen you in here before.”
“Maria’s sick today, so Elise is filling in,” Mateo explains.
Elise moves away from Rick and back toward Mateo. She seems less tense around him, which is pretty much the opposite of what you’d expect. He doesn’t scare me, but Mateo’s generally considered a pretty intimidating guy. Elise moves closer to him like he’s the sun, and she’s stranded in a snowstorm.
The conversation turns to the neighborhood, the changes, the new talent. Mateo tries to bring me into his fold again, which shouldn’t surprise me since he thinks that’s why I’m here.
We keep drinking, and drinking, and drinking, and drinking. We’re all trashed by the time we have to go to dinner, and Mateo doesn’t usually let that happen, so he really must be pleased to see me.
A stab of guilt gets me, but I ignore it.
I’m good at ignoring pain.
One more night and I can get out of Chicago. I can make it through one more night.
Some people get more outgoing when they’re drunk, but not me. I withdraw even further into myself, which is saying something.
Rick, he’s the obnoxious type. Boisterous and loud—I can’t believe he’s Mateo’s main hit guy. I wouldn’t trust this asshole to take out an elephant with a fucking cannon launcher.
No subtlety.
I sort of wish he did have some, because then I wouldn’t be boiling over here with anger by the time the ladies bring out dessert. Beth serves Mateo and takes a seat to his left. She looks tired. I’m surprised he didn’t even mention her when we were drinking in the study, since they apparently had a kid together since I last saw him.
Francesca puts a plate in front of me, then Rick, before taking her own seat beside him.
“Where’s that pretty little maid?” Rick asks Francesca.
“Elise?” she asks, frowning at him. “Cleaning up in the kitchen.”
Please don’t.
I know I can’t say it, but as Mr. Fucking Subtlety eyeballs the door leading to the kitchen, I get a bad feeling about tonight. A real bad feeling.
A few minutes later, he needs to use the restroom. The nearest one is in the hall, but of course he doesn’t head that way—he heads for the kitchen.
Placing my fork down on the table, I look at the chocolate lava cake I haven’t touched. I try to convince myself he just didn’t remember about the bathroom in the hall, or he’s drunk and went for the wrong door.
Only I don’t believe any of that.
I look to Mateo, wishing he would’ve noticed, but he doesn’t pay nearly as much attention to the maid as she does to him, and he doesn’t seem to find anything amiss about Rick going to the kitchen instead of the bathroom. I look around at the other faces, and no one else seems to either.
Goddammit.
Finally, I push back from the table and stand, drawing Mateo’s attention.
“Be right back,” I mutter, heading for the kitchen doors.
I don’t see Elise when I enter. It’s a massive room, like all the rooms, but she’s not by the sink cleaning up, or storing leftovers in the fridge. She’s nowhere.
Something slams into the pantry door, grabbing my attention. The pantry’s pulled shut, but something rattles from inside.
Clenching my fists at my side, I storm to the pantry and rip it open.
Face down on the ground with Rick on top of her, Elise’s teary blue eyes look up at me, as if expecting a savior. The light dims slightly at seeing me, but she’s not exactly in a position to be picky.