A seat across from danger

Catrina's Pov 

Sunlight slammed through the window, the blinding light cracked across my room. 

I stared, a little dazed, at the right side of my bed frame. 

It was all a little blurry but it was beautiful. 

My body felt light as if a weight had been lifted off me. 

My hand reached for my phone, as my fingers fumbled to swipe it open, I squinted at the bright screen. 

My eyes widened as I jotted up from the bed.

"Afternoon already?" I said in disbelief beneath me.

Knock knock.

"Good day ma.” A soft voice spoke from outside the door.

 My heart skipped a beat.

 "Mr. Vincenzo sent for you," the voice continued,

 "You've been sleeping all day, it's time for lunch, he wants you at the dining table immediately." A faint smell of spices filled the air, my stomach rumbled in anticipation.

 I swung my legs over the side of the bed, feeling the cool air against my skin, and began to get ready. 

The thought of lunch with Vincenzo made me smile.

“I'll be there a few minutes from now” I responded.

***

Each plate was filled with different delicacies.

 I was in awe while I walked to the dining table.

 It was a single slab of polished black marble, so long and sleek it could be a runway.

 Instead of candles, a series of minimalist, sculptural light fixtures hung above, casting a warm, dramatic glow. 

Each plate was a work of art, a matte black ceramic with a subtle, shimmering gold rim. 

The silverware was heavy, solid, and made of a dark, non-reflective metal. 

There were no fussy floral arrangements, but a single, perfect white orchid sat in a low, geometric vase at the center, a stark and elegant contrast to the dark table. 

Mr. Vincenzo sat at the far end, while I took a seat facing him, it felt like we were miles from each other.

 Every detail spoke of his wealth and an understated, controlled power.

I knew I was just a small piece in his world.

“You are late”, Vincenzo slammed his fist on the table.

Terrors washed through me.

“I'm sorry sir it was never my intention, I….I…was…”

He held up his hand, cutting me short.

“Serve us” he ordered the cook.

I sat, shivering like my world was about to collapse.

 I miss my Bethany.

 I wonder how she's doing. 

The nurses won't attend to her if I don't make a deposit.

God…God…God….why me.

"Eat up, what are you staring at young lady" he snapped me out of my thoughts.

I shot out.

 "Sorry sir, it's just I...I...I stutter."

"We don't have all day, we are heading out for a meeting," he said.

My hand shook, rattling the fork against the porcelain plate. 

The greasy scrambled eggs stared back at me, a sickly yellow puddle next to two shriveled sausages. 

A knot tightened in my gut. I looked up at him; his face was like a hard mask.

 He didn't look at me.

 "Eat up," he said. 

The words were a fist in my stomach.

 I pushed the fork into the eggs. 

They tasted like ash. 

I closed my eyes, trying to force a mouthful down. 

My throat was tight. 

 I flinched as he cleared his throat. 

He finally looked at me, his eyes were cold.

 "We don't have all day," he said, with a low growl.

 "We are heading out for a meeting." He went on further.

I stared at the plate, unable to speak.

 My mouth was dry. I couldn't swallow.

“Should I go ahead to ask him?” I thought aloud.

“He could just blow out at me. I can't face that, God…God…how can I escape from here?” The knot in my gut twisted tighter.

I jolted at the sudden loud BEEP of his phone. 

He slammed his fist on the table.

 "WHAT!!" he bellowed, the sound echoing in the silent villa. 

He strode out, his feet pounding on the marble floor. 

I scrambled after him, my heart hammering against my ribs. 

He reached the car first, his hand gripping the door handle so tightly his knuckles turned white. 

He wrenched it open and slid into the back seat.

 "Take me to the golden star restaurant ASAP," he bit out at the driver. 

The car roared to life, tires screeching as it whipped around the corner. 

I was thrown against the door as we took the turn. 

In the rear-view mirror, I saw his reflection. His face was a chiseled mask of fury, his jaw muscles working like a piston. 

He was coiled tight, like a storm about to break.