Chapter Seven
The following morning, Damon demanded that she make herself breakfast, and so she had decided to do some savory eggy bread. Milah had noticed last night the bread she used felt slightly stale, so it wasn’t a hardship turning it into something that would make it edible.
Damon was in the kitchen. Last night, he’d made her a little unnerved by how he’d dealt with his kitchen staff.
The day after she’d made her mother’s lentil stew, she had noticed a change in the taste of the food. She’d known the chef hated her for interfering. The fact Damon had eaten her stew, rather than his, had upset him.
Milah hadn’t gone into the kitchen to cause a problem for anyone. All she wanted to do was cook the food that reminded her of her mother. The woman who helped her to feel comfortable when her life was in so much turmoil. Glory had told her this morning that she was doing her best to get word out to her father.
She wouldn’t let Glory be hurt for doing this. She would do whatever Damon asked, so long as Glory didn’t suffer. It was a big risk, trying to contact her father. Part of her didn’t want to. The man was a complete and total bastard and had no regard for anyone but himself.
But she needed to know how to deal with everything. Without knowing what to expect, she felt very much like a fish in open water.
As soon as she knew what was expected of her, she could adapt accordingly.
With Damon’s gaze on her, Milah finished frying two slices of the bread and served him up. She already had another two slices soaking up some egg mixture.
Damon looked at the bread. It was one of her mother’s favorites. Milah had loved it when her mother went into the kitchen. Her father had tried to stop it, but her mother always found a way.
“What do you think?” she asked, placing her slices into the pan, loving the sizzle. Home cooking always helped to soothe her soul.
It was so basic and yet so … comforting. In the kitchen, there was a great deal of rules on safety and in cooking. Sometimes she liked to break boundaries, but for now, she was happy not to experiment too much.
“Delicious,” Damon said.
He finished off his two slices before she had even finished cooking her own. He held his plate out, and Milah served him the two she had originally planned to cook for herself. Making up some more egg mixture, she got to soaking the bread and cooking some more. Damon looked tempted to ask for the two she had cooked, but he put his knife and fork down, and instead, drank his coffee.
“Have you never had eggy bread before?” she asked.
“Not for a long time.”
“You could have asked the chef for what you wanted.” She wanted to know what had happened to the chef. She had been starving the past few days. She hadn’t eaten much of the food. Spending more of her time pushing it around her plate than eating it.
Damon didn’t say anything, just sipped at his coffee as she finished her food.
Once she was done, with her coffee drank, she got to her feet and was about to clean away.
“I have staff for that,” Damon said. “Follow me.”
She wanted to argue with him but knew to do so would be futile. Damon always got what he wanted.
Putting the plates down, she followed close behind him. She expected to see the kitchen staff, but the only people they passed were guards.
She had yet to apologize to James properly. There had never been a right time to bring it up. How did you go about saying sorry to someone you’d just shot?
Two guards stood at the French doors overlooking the yard. Jackets were held in their hands, and Damon took hers from the guard, helping her into it. He pushed her hands out of the way when she tried to do it up, sliding the buttons inside the holes, one by one.
He grabbed the hat from the guard and put it on her head, and then some gloves. She pushed her hands inside, but Damon made sure they went on properly. She wanted to ask him what he was doing, but he turned away, putting a jacket on himself. He didn’t bother with a hat or gloves.
They stepped out into the freezing temperature, and Milah enjoyed it.
Damon took her hand, and together, they walked straight down to the steps. She noticed the main porch had been gritted, and she couldn’t help but smile. Did he do that for her?
They walked together. The sun was high up in the sky, not that its warmth was felt. The ground was way too cold. This time, he’d allowed her to have some boots. They’d been with her clothes that very morning.
Last night, Damon hadn’t requested her to come to his room. She remained in her bedroom, and Glory had told her he was dealing with the kitchen staff. Glory had also asked why she hadn’t told her about what was going on.
The truth was, she had a feeling Glory was trying to get close to her to spy on her. It was the only explanation for why Glory was being nice to her. To earn her trust. She wanted to believe more than anything that she was wrong, but she doubted it.
People always betrayed the Russos.
Glory was owned by Damon. There was no way she would help her, but she couldn’t help but wonder if there was a chance of it.
Damon had put her up to it, but why? What did he hope to achieve?
She hated the number of questions she had when it came to this man. Like, why was he being nice? Why was he eating the food she cooked?
Pushing them all away, she decided to take one problem at a time. For now, she needed to enjoy being outside, enjoy the cold air.
Damon was silent. His grip on her arm was tight, and neither of them said a word.