“Take it.”
Whoever said karma would come around knew what they meant. I chewed on my lower lip, trying to avoid looking up, but my eyes betrayed me. Slowly, I raised my gaze. Artur sat across from me, leisurely chewing his steak. I ruined his starter, and now he went straight to the main course, letting me take the poison meant for him. His gaze was on me, though he didn’t break his rhythm.
He had figured it out, hadn’t he? Did he even taste it?
“You’re not eating,” Artur’s voice sliced through the air, calm but laced with a hidden threat. He knew what he was doing, and I could feel it in the pit of my stomach.
“Matvet said you eat alone,” I murmured, desperate for an escape.
“And I say you eat,” Artur replied with a command in his voice.
My heart raced, and I hesitated. “Sir, I already had my dinner.” I hoped he would buy my excuse, but deep down, I knew it was futile. The amount of salt I added could strip the taste buds of anyone. “I’m not hungry.”
Artur’s eyes never left me. His stare was so intense it felt like he was peeling away every layer of me.
“I’m starting to think you poisoned my food,” he said, placing his fork and knife down. “Is that the case, Alessia?”
My body stiffened, and I shook my head vehemently. “Of course not,” I snickered to cover the unease in my voice. “Why would I do that to my boss?”
In truth, poisoning him didn’t sound like such a terrible idea.
Artur’s gaze darkened, his hand moving behind his back with practiced ease. When it reappeared, he rested a gun beside his glass of water. The cold steel gleamed under the dim light.
“Eat,” he ordered. “Enjoy your meal.”
Taking a deep breath, I grabbed the spoon. My fingers trembled as I stirred the soup. I scooped a spoonful, glancing at Artur as I slowly brought it to my lips.
“If you think I poisoned your soup, I hope this proves you wrong,” I said, forcing a calmness I didn’t feel.
As soon as I shoved the spoon into my mouth, a rush of unpleasantness flooded my taste buds. The salt hit me like a punch to the gut, and my face contorted.
Why did I put that much salt? I stared at the bowl, my brows furrowing, lips tight from the assault on my senses. My throat burned, and I fought back the urge to cough.
I strained a smile as I spoke, my voice rough and hoarse. “See,” I rasped. “No poison.”
Artur’s lips curved into a twisted, almost mocking smile. “My bad,” he murmured. His eyes glinted with something darker as he picked up his glass. He sipped while watching me over the rim. When he set the glass down, he waved his hand dismissively. “Enjoy the rest, Alessia. And pay better attention to your work as my maid.”
What?The burning sensation in my throat made it hard to think. I could use a sip of that water or a slice of bread, something to soothe my taste. But here I was, trapped with him. He wanted to see me suffer, I was sure of it.
“Stay away from my room,” he said, his voice growing cold. His eyes focused on mine, as if expecting me to take notes on his orders. I poked at the soup with my spoon, trying to stay calm. “The dog’s room, and the storage.”
Knowing better than to argue, I nodded. “Yes, sir.”
But he had more to say. “Serve my meals at the right hour. I don’t entertain lateness.”
Already overwhelmed by the demands, I told him, “Yes, sir. Understood.”
“You’re not drinking your soup, Alessia,” he observed.
This man couldn’t be human. Seeing he was watching me, I reluctantly lifted the spoon again, the salt burning my throat with each sip. The wince that followed was involuntary. I cursed silently, tasting the bitter saltiness.
“Are you enjoying your soup?” he asked, lifting his glass for another sip. His eyes never left mine.
Asshole.
“Are you trying to say something?” His voice was calm, but a hidden menace lurked within it.
“No.” I swallowed my irritation. “No, sir.”