Page 26 of Bite Me

“Tell me, what will you do when the culinary club is nothing like what you imagined? Will you cry like you do at the breakfast rush?”

“How do you know about that?” Her shoulders drop, and she blinks, her voice hitting an octave higher.

As if I don’t know everywhere she goes, the people she talks to. She has no idea how entangled I am.

It’s not all softness in her voice, though. Her eyes squint as if she’s still assessing the danger of my proximity, physically, mentally, and emotionally.

It takes a full ten seconds before I’m able to take my hand off the edge of the counter to stop myself from getting closer to her. Only then do the edges of my lips tug into a smirk.

“Mr. Everhart. Your grandfather is here. He’d like to speak with you.” The voice of my grandfather’s assistant accompanies the sound of the door.

I smile. “Rain check, thief?”

“Fine. Stalker.”

There’s a strange exhilaration as I part from her. I have to dampen my smile before entering my grandfather’s office.

I’ve spent hours here, but I’ve never gotten used to the smell of the leather polish. My grandfather loves gold, and it’s apparent in every detail on the cabinet under his desk and the accents lining his table. It’s not even the family color, which is present in the ruby-colored pocket square in his jacket.

“Rough night?” He smiles as I sit across from him.

“Nothing out of the ordinary.”

There’s a long pause. My grandfather only pauses when he’s got something important to say, as if he needs to chew on the words for a few minutes.

There’s a statue of a dog behind his chair. I stare into its ruby eyes while I wait. As a child, I used to think it was scary.

“Do you remember when I said there would come a day when I would need you to do something for the good of the family?”

How could I forget? That memory has been seared into my brain since I was ten. It was the first time I’d seen my grandfather turn from the sweet man whose lap I used to sit on while we cooked to the stern businessman I know today.

He was always that man. I just never saw it.

“Yes, sir.”

He nods, still studying me. I swallow as the unease melts into my limbs, and I adjust in the leather chair. The squeak lingers in the silence like broken glass falling at a funeral.

“Then why is it that I’m told you did not invite Emma Osborne to the culinary club as quickly as we had discussed?”

I’ve been waiting for him to ask, and that’s why I already have my answer planned.

“I extended an invitation, but our wires got crossed. But no need to worry. She’s here right now, taking a tour.”

Easy to understand. Nothing to look into.

He nods. “Good. Her father’s time with the board of directors was . . . eventful, and now that he’s back, he’s been increasingly vocal about his disdain for the Donor Program. It’s an issue.”

My grandfather is the chairman, one of the highest-ranking seats in the entire Donor Program, which he received shortly after securing an arranged marriage to my grandmother. There’s nothing he takes more seriously, and it has nothing to do with “uniting worlds” like the Doxlothia plaque above the gated drive states. He used to share the same passion I did for cooking, but I think somewhere in his mad dash to prove himself in our family tree, he lost that love entirely. All he talks about anymore is the Donor Program.

“I haven’t heard much talk of it on the council,” I say.

“I’ve done my best to squash it, but I’m afraid he knows a little about my past dealings.”

“What does this have to do with the girl?”

“I’ve heard his daughter has a special interest in the culinary club. So much, in fact, that all my administrators seem to remember her name coming up in emails and conversations.”

The room goes silent as he stares at me.