Page 44 of Vicious
“I don’t like to bring home women if I’m not certain I want them around permanently,” I answer glibly, although it’s a true statement.
May winces almost imperceptibly at that, but she keeps a straight face and doesn’t stop her work.
I sit down at one of the island counter stools and watch as the two of them continue to chop vegetables. “So you do cook, Ah-May.”
“I can throw a few things together,” May demurs. “I wouldn’t really say I cook, though.” Her lips twitch into a tentative smile. “I make a mean spaghetti.”
“But today, I’m doing something more traditional for Mr. Vicious,” Mrs. Hong says. “I’ll fix breakfast. You two go sit, relax.” She sets her knife down, and May does the same.
May still looks tense, wary, like she expects me to explode.
“Thank you, Mrs. Hong,” I say reflexively. I glance at May. “How long have you been awake?”
She shrugs. “An hour or so. I didn’t want to disturb you, but I was hungry. Don’t worry. Mrs. Hong has kept me from getting into any mischief.”
Mrs. Hong looks satisfied at that, like it was her goal to keep May from going exploring places she shouldn’t—of course, without knowing that the entire house is off limits.
“Well. Good.” I’m feeling very disconcerted about the entire experience. May isn’t meant to be out here. If she’s out here, she could leave.
But she didn’t, and I don’t know why. She could’ve told Mrs. Hong she’d been held captive, I suppose, but I doubt my cook would’ve believed her anyway. They wouldn’t have been having an amicable conversation if May had done that, though, which leads me to believe she hasn’t said anything at all to dissuade Mrs. Hong from thinking she’s my girlfriend.
“Shoo,” Mrs. Hong says with a wave of her hand when neither May nor I move to leave the kitchen. “Omelets and coffee, Mr. Vicious?”
“Yes, thank you. We’ll be in the dining room.” I watch May, but she makes no indication of trying to bolt. Instead, we head into the adjacent dining room, which has a table large enough to seat eight people—not that I’ve ever hosted a dinner party that large. I’d had some grand ideas when I’d bought the house, but this is my sanctuary, and I don’t want the assholes from work visiting here.
Once we’re alone in there, I grip her tightly by one already-bruised wrist and bring her to the table. She winces and squirms but doesn’t try to pull away as I sit her down and stare at her. “You’re still here.”
“Um. You’re hurting me,” she says, obviously trying to dodge having to answer me. After a moment of silence, she sighs. “Yes, I’m still here. Clearly. Where was I going to go, Chase?”
“I don’t know. Back to your father?” I finally let go of her and rub my eyes. “You aren’t actually predictable, May. I don’t know how you think.”
May snorts. “Yeah, well. I’m not exactly trying to give you any insights into me, but I figured you’d know a little more, considering you’ve been stalking me for the past year.” She says the words in a low voice, glancing in the direction of the kitchen for a moment before looking back at me.
I don’t know what to say. Normally I can think quickly on the fly, turn on the charm, but May has me completely disarmed right now.
There’s warmth underneath my heart that wants to grow, but I refuse to stoke that fire.
Mrs. Hong enters with our coffee and food, setting cutlery and a serving down in front of each of us. “Here you go, Mr. Vicious, May. Enjoy the food. I’ll get back to work now.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Hong,” I answer, poking my omelet.
“It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Hong!” May says cheerily.
Mrs. Hong smiles and turns back for the kitchen.
May, at least, seems to have an appetite, because she digs into the hot omelet with a look of bliss on her features. “Ohmygod,” she says around a mouthful of eggs. “Fresh food.”
“You’ve been eating Mrs. Hong’s cooking all week,” I point out. “She preps all the meals.”
“It hasn’t been fresh,” May retorts, swallowing. “I didn’t say it didn’t taste good.”
“It’s fresh enough.” I sip from my coffee and keep staring at her.
I don’t think I’ve been in a situation this awkward in ages, and I don’t know what’s wrong with me. May appears to be fine. I should be able to snark back just as easily as always.
She eyes me for a moment, finally seeming to clue in to just how disoriented I am. “You’re seriously freaking out,” she muses aloud. “You’re the one who told me no one would believe me, going to the cops would be pointless, you’d ruin me and my father, blah blah blah. Remember? I just wanted out of that fucking room for a little bit and to get something to eat. I didn’t expect to run into Mrs. Hong.”
“Well.” I eat a bit of the omelet, which tastes as good as always. “Sometimes people don’t act in their best interest.”