All heads in the hallway, Benedict’s and the five or so security guys’, snapped to me.
Suddenly, I faltered.Shit, what am I going to say?
But Director Sergei watched me, his conversation with Benedict forgotten, which was all that mattered.
I slowed as I reached them.
“I—hi. I don’t know if you remember me,” I rushed out.
Sergei nodded slowly. “Miss Dmitrova. Katarina, yes?”
“Yes,” I confirmed.
“How can I help you, child?”
“I-I just wanted to say hi,” I managed to get out.What the hell?
Benedict glared at me, and an assessing look crossed Sergei’s face as he considered me.
“You offered to let me have dinner with you last time. I’d love to do that if the offer still stands,” I rambled. Great, now I was basically inviting myself to dinner with the director of Centrium Group for no reason. Oh well, let him think I was crazy. That was why I was here anyway.
Sergei watched me for a long while and then turned to Benedict.
“This young woman seems confused and worried. Is that the state you usually keep your patients in? Is that the state you usually keepthispatient in?” he asked carefully.
Before I could wonder what the hell he was talking about, he turned back to me.
“Alas, today I am moving on quickly. I appreciate you might be unsettled by the recent events here, but don’t worry, Katarina, you are safe here. It is the safest place for you.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so I just nodded.
“Father Benedict will make you feel better. Trust in him and his therapies and medicines. I am a man who believes in the power of medications and prayer.”
“Okay,” I murmured, nodding to make it seem like I was interested in what he was saying.
“I will see you again the next time I visit, child, and we will have that dinner,” Sergei said, and patted me on the hand.
I fought the urge to recoil. There was something unsettling about the man. I instinctively disliked him.
“Sure, sounds fun,” I said.
He gave me a tight smile and addressed Benedict. “I leave her in your hands, Father. Do not disappoint me.”
Then he was striding off, and Benedict clamped his hand on my arm.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. Up close, he looked even worse than he had only a week ago. His eyes were bloodshot, his comb-over unkempt. His robes were stained with food in places, and he smelled bad. Sour, like old wine.
“Come into my office,” he hissed at me and pulled me roughly through the door, letting it slam behind us.
He threw me down into the chair in front of his desk, then walked to his own. Nerves prickled up my arms as I gripped the chair and watched him warily.
“‘Don’t disappoint me,’ he says. What a fucking joke,” Benedictmuttered.
I’d never heard him speak in anger or swear. He seemed to be unraveling.
He started to mess with some white tablets, and my stomach dropped. Was he going to give me my medication himself?Shit.
“Isn’t Father Lucciano coming to the session?”