Chapter Ten
683 Words
POV: Carina
I took him by the hand and led him to the dining table.
Mr. Cole and the maid had prepared a generous spread of delicacies, every dish laid out with quiet precision.
"Sir, madam dinner is ready."
"What are you talking about, Mr. Cole? It is Lizzie, remember? The roleplay," said Mr. Cole.
"Hmm. Mr. Damien did not strike me as the type but good for him."
"Well, Lizzie would you help me? Go and get my wife, Carina, and let her know that dinner is ready."
"Yes, sir."
I left, and a moment later I came back again this time stepping fully into the role of his wife.
"Thank you for sending Lizzie to get me," I said warmly, settling into the seat. "I am absolutely starving."
"Of course."
Mr. Cole pulled out the chair for me and I sat down. He left with the maid, pulling the door gently behind him, and the dining room settled into a quiet that felt almost deliberate.
I sat at the table and let my eyes drift slowly across the walls scanning every corner, every frame, every shadow still searching for the painting.
I reached over and helped Damien with his cutlery.
"It is fine I can handle it," he said.
"I am not helping you. I am taking care of you," I said, standing up before he could argue.
I held the knife and fork and began cutting his food, but my mind was split in two my hands working at the table while my eyes continued their quiet search around the room.
I was so distracted that I misjudged the distance completely and guided the fork straight into his nose instead of his mouth.
"Wrong hole," Damien said flatly.
"God Damien, I am so sorry," I said, reaching forward to help him.
In the rush, my elbow caught his coffee cup and sent it sliding across the table. It tipped and poured directly onto his shirt.
"I am so sorry," I said again, grabbing a napkin.
He said nothing. He simply reached up and pulled the stained shirt over his head, setting it aside without a word.
I was still crouched beneath the table trying to clean up the spill when Mr. John walked in.
"Jesus oh!" He stopped dead in the doorway. "I am so sorry for coming in. New relationship energy and all "
"No please, it is not what you think," I said quickly, straightening up.
He cleared his throat and pressed on. "We have confirmed that Lizzie has ties with your uncle. She was likely sent as a spy they have been in contact." He paused briefly. "That is all I had to say. Excuse me."
John left.
I sat back down in my seat.
"Who is Lizzie?" I asked, keeping my voice even.
"She is a snake," he said, turning his glass slowly between his fingers. "She is working for my uncle. What she does not know is that I already have the upper hand."
Damien set his stained shirt down on the arm of his chair.
I looked at his chest and for a full second, I lost every thought that had been in my head.
Six-pack. Lovely. Wow.
I stood up abruptly.
I do not want that to distract me.
"Why don't I get you a fresh shirt? Because sitting here is not helping. Wait here."
I left the dining room and moved down the corridor.
And then I saw it a painting, draped with a cloth, propped quietly against the wall as if it had been waiting there all along.
I stopped.
I walked toward it slowly and lifted the edge of the cloth.
I held my breath.
"Is something wrong, Carina?" his voice came from behind me, low and unhurried.
"No," I said quickly, dropping the cloth back into place. "Thank you I am fine. If I need anything, I will get it myself."
I stepped away from the painting and steadied myself, my heart beating just a little louder than it should
have been.
Carina Voss, I am watching your back.
- Writer
