Beauty in Deception

High walls topped with barbwire protect the sides of the property. The front lawn runs to the edge of the cliff. The drop is steep. That’s where the property walls end. The fringe of the garden is lined with lemon trees that are full of fat, yellow fruit. A few guards man the perimeter. When one of them lifts his face to the window, I turn away.

I don’t run into anyone as I retrace my steps to the foyer and enter a dining room on the opposite side. Like the lounge, the vista is magnificent. The house was designed for these two rooms and the main bedrooms upstairs to benefit from the view. Walking down the hallway, I peer around doorframes as I go. Next to the dining room is a huge games room with a pool table and a giant flatscreen mounted on the wall. The door on the right is closed. I feel the door. It’s locked. The destination I’m aiming for is the kitchen. I ate the fruit someone had left in my room. Even so, I’m dizzy with hunger. My diet is strict. To match Evie’s weight, I’m never allowed to consume more calories than necessary. I’m always a little hungry after meals. I don’t have surplus energy to sustain me when I skip dinner.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee, bacon, and eggs coming from the back of the house makes my stomach growl. At the end of the hallway, I find what I’ve been looking for, but the kitchen isn’t deserted. Roman, Mateo, and a man with red hair and freckles sit at an island counter with mugs in their hands. Plates heaped with scrambled eggs and bacon are set in front of them. Their conversation falls quiet when I stop in the doorframe. Roman pauses with his mug halfway to his mouth. Mateo narrows his gaze while the other man clears his throat.

Awkwardly, I say, “I’ll come back later.”

Roman’s harsh, “No,” stops me when I turn. I face him slowly, apprehension tightening my stomach. I know when I’m not welcome.

“Sit,” he says, getting up to pull out a chair for me.

I take the seat opposite him.

“Eggs?” he asks, moving to a hot tray on the counter. “Bacon?” He casts a look in Mateo’s direction. “My brother cooked.”

Mateo’s jaw bunches.

I make to get up. “I can get that.”

“I said sit,” Roman says, grabbing a plate and serving a big helping of eggs.

I lower myself reluctantly again. The stack of bacon he piles on the plate makes my mouth water. When he scoops up a slice of kiwi, I quickly say, “No.”

He frowns. “You like kiwi.”

Evie does. I’m allergic. Wait. He knows what Evie likes to eat? He must’ve done his research.

I think quickly. “I ate all the fruit in the bedroom. That’s more than enough fiber for one day.”

He lowers the serving spoon and carries the plate to me. I stare at the mountain of food. My usual breakfast consists of half a grapefruit and a small glass of milk.

The man with the red hair pushes a basket of toast toward me. I lift my gaze and offer him an uncertain smile in thanks.

“This is my cousin, Andrew,” Roman says, handing me a knife and fork. “Coffee?”

“Um, yes. Please.”

After pouring another mug, Roman adds a spoon of sugar and milk. It’s how Evie drinks her coffee.

“Thanks,” I say, averting my eyes.

His takes his place opposite me and continues to eat his breakfast.

Silence stretches. It’s not an amiable silence, and I don’t want to throw fuel on a combustible situation, but I need to know.

“Where are the men?”

Roman takes a sip of his coffee before he answers. “In the cell.”

“You have a cell?” My stomach flips. “Here?”

“Three, actually,” he replies. “In the basement. You’ll see the men soon enough.”

Although I have no desire to visit his cells, the promise placates me somewhat. At least I’ll be able to judge for myself that the men are all right. I feel guilty for sitting here in a warm kitchen having a big breakfast while they’re locked in Roman’s basement.

“Can I take them some food?” I ask.

Roman sets his napkin aside. “Don’t waste your worry on them.” His smile is wry. “We’re feeding them.”

Bringing his mug to his lips, Mateo says, “You don’t want to go down there.”

I look at Roman. He’s the boss.

He gives me a smile that says he knows I’m pushing my luck and crushes my hope when he seals the deal by quoting his brother in a flat tone. “You don’t want to go down there.”

“Anyway, the door is locked,” Andrew says, not unkindly. “And there are cameras.”

It’s generous of him to warn me.

Roman gets to his feet. “We have business to take care of. Help yourself to food. We won’t be back before dinner.” Walking to my side, he puts his lips against my ear and whispers, “Don’t try anything foolish and make me punish you.”