I walk into the dining room and take my seat at the massive mahogany table. I sit down without saying a word, my posture rigid, and focus intensely on the water glass in front of me.
Vega is already seated at the other end, and he doesn't say anything either. The silence is thick, charged with the ridiculous encounter we just had.
Catarina arrives moments later, bringing the dinner over herself. She moves with professional grace, placing the dishes, a beautifully plated fillet and a vibrant assortment of roasted vegetables, in front of us. She gives me a quick, compassionate glance before retreating.
I pick up my fork and begin to eat. I am intensely uncomfortable at first, painfully aware of him across the table.
But the food, a perfectly seared steak, rich and savory, is so delicious, so comforting, that a wave of pure, physical pleasure washes over me.
