Sordid (Sordid 1)

“Your father?” I asked like a timid mouse. Luka had been awful to me, but also sometimes verging on sweet, and it was Dimitrije I feared more than the man beside me.

“No, he’s hardly ever here. He stays with the whore. They left after dinner last night.”

Luka got out of bed and then helped me to my feet. My legs were weak and uncooperative, but I managed. He stayed true to his word. Luka watched me wobble toward the bathroom, but didn’t follow, choosing instead to get dressed. It didn’t take him long. Moments after I shut the bathroom door between us, I heard the bedroom door open and close as he left.

I was empty as I stood under the stream of water from the shower. Not numb, not angry, not scared, just . . . empty. I decided to think about nothing at all, rather than analyze the last two days and how I felt about it. I focused on the menial tasks. Lather, rinse. Shut off the water. Dry your hair.

When I emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped beneath my arms, there were clothes laid out on the bed—a pair of jeans, undergarments, and a soft orange sweater. The boatneck top was older, but comfortable and flattering, and one of my favorite pieces. I dressed quickly and then eyed the doorknob.

Did he trust me somewhat, or would I find the door locked when I tried to open it? I held my breath, grasped the brass handle, and turned. Luka waited in the hall and seemed pleased to see me. He noticed the surprised expression I had, but said nothing, and nodded toward the stairs.

Every step I took beside him without running inched us closer to some sort of understanding. I sat across from him at the table in the kitchen that was once again set for us with a full spread. A lifetime had passed since the last time we’d been here.

“After breakfast,” he said, pouring me a cup of coffee, “I assume you have stuff you want to work on. Homework or whatever.”

I almost fell out of my chair. “I’m going to class tomorrow?”

His eyes clouded. “I didn’t say that.”

I made a face. “Well, what’s the point of doing it if—”

“Tell me you don’t want to do your homework.” His expression was direct. “Regardless of whether you have class. Tell me it won’t eat at you to leave it unfinished.”

I set my coffee down with force. Damn him. “Yeah, okay, it’ll make me crazy not to do it, but why does it matter?”

“Just do it, Addison,” he grumbled and turned to look out the picture window at the bright, sunny day. He frowned. His gaze turned back to me and hardened. “If it matters to you, it matters to me.”

He was so confusing, but I could tell there wasn’t anything else informative coming from him, and I couldn’t keep pushing. We ate as the conversation went silent, and the only sound was the scrape of silverware against china. It was tense, but not uncomfortable. I had a hard time starting a conversation and didn’t mind the quiet, and Luka seemed to be the same.

When we finished our meal, his gaze settled on me and his head cocked to one side.

“What?” I asked.

The corner of his mouth hinted a smile. “I like this on you.”

I glanced down, and back to him. “My sweater?”

“You wore it the first time I heard you speak. You corrected professor Kwon when he’d written the wrong variable on the whiteboard. You beat me to it.”

My heart marched along at double-time. He remembered not only the event, but what I was wearing?

Luka appeared unfazed. “Tomorrow, I have to work.” He rubbed a hand along the faint scruff on his face. “I’ll have to leave the house by seven. There’ll be someone here though, until I’m back for lunch.”

I swallowed back my mounting irritation at missing my morning lecture. It wouldn’t do any good to lose control of my emotions around him, but I still said it with my teeth clenched firmly together. “And what would you have me do tomorrow? Since I won’t be at class?”

“You need better clothes. I’ll get someone over here to fix that.”

I choked. He was going to what? “I’m sorry?”

Despite it all, his annoyed look still did something to me. It made me feel excited and eager to see the expression on the opposite end. Any hint of emotion from him was nice, but a pleased Luka was the most intriguing.

“We’ll have lunch together. If all that goes well, you’ll have further privileges.”

But he wouldn’t elaborate on them. My ingrained manners had me trying to clear my plate and set it in the kitchen sink, but Luka waved his hand, dismissing my actions.

“The housekeeper will get it.”

Housekeeper. Where, exactly, was this mystery staff? The house was immaculate, but I hadn’t seen so much as a shadow of them.