Page 41 of A King So Savage

Kingston’s mouth twitched with barely concealed amusement. “Will you make me regret it?”

Ava took a deep breath to steady herself. “No. I won’t. Not today, anyway.”

He relaxed in his chair despite her words. “I’m glad to hear that. I hope we can have a pleasant breakfast, and afterward, I will show you the areas of the house where you may freely go.”

“Okay.”

That seemed to satisfy him, and he smiled as an older man emerged from the house carrying silver-covered dishes. These were set down on the gleaming table and the lids removed with a flourish.

“Good morning, Antony,” Kingston said to the chef.

“Good morning, sir. Miss Blue?” The elderly man addressed her, obviously nervous at seeing her in person. “I hope you have enjoyed the meals I’ve prepared during your stay here at The Den. If you would like anything special, you only need to ask. I studied in France at the top culinary school in the world, which is where Mister Winter found me. I can prepare any dish you might like.”

“Thank you,” Ava replied. “The food has been amazing.” How did one react around the servants of a kidnapper? Like nothing was wrong? Or should one send secret signals, begging for assistance in getting away?

Antony grinned ear to ear and set about preparing their plates. Ava sat stiff and silent, hyperaware of Kingston’s brooding gaze.

The food was steaming hot, the eggs prepared just as Ava liked them. She poured a small amount of syrup over the pancakes and began cutting them into small pieces. Despite the twists and knots in her stomach, she was suddenly ravenous.

Kingston’s own food remained untouched as he sipped his coffee. A couple of times, he consulted his wristwatch, but his attention remained focused on her.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Ava finally asked, her fork stacked with miniature pancake squares.

Kingston cut into the ham on his own plate and took a bite. “You are so transparent, Ava. I don’t think you realize how much so.”

Ava chewed slowly before swallowing. “What do you mean?” She held the butter knife casually in one hand. But it pointed his way in a subtle reminder she now held a real weapon in her hand. A butter knife to be sure, but a weapon nonetheless.

“I know you are still dreaming of escape. But for your own sake, you must abandon that idea. You’ll not get far, and you know I’ll punish you. And how I will do it.”

Ava’s heart thumped rapidly as she met his unrelenting gaze. She lowered the butter knife. “I’ve no intention of attempting it again. Your threats… what you said you would do to me… are enough to keep me from trying something so stupid a second time.”

Kingston’s eyes flared with unmistakable heat. “I almost wish you would do something foolish. It would give me an excuse to punish you, and I would enjoy that immensely.”

Before Ava could reply to that terrifying revelation, the French doors flung open and Oliver strolled onto the terrace.

Wearing a lopsided grin, he plopped down in one of the empty chairs closest to Ava. Now, she was sandwiched between the two brothers, and uneasiness turned the pancakes she’d just swallowed to dust in her mouth.

Oliver gave Ava a deceptively friendly nudge of his shoulder.

“Why wasn’t I invited?”

Kingston’s lips tightened as he regarded his brother. “You don’t eat breakfast.”

Oliver winked at Ava. “Maybe I’d like to just admire the scenery.” He glanced around the table, lips curving into an even wider grin. “At least offer me a cup of coffee.”

Kingston snapped his fingers, and Antony was immediately beside the table. “A cup for Oliver, please.”

Oliver leaned toward Ava. “Now, aren’t you special? You are eating off a dead woman’s china. Not everyone gets that honor.”

Ava laid her fork on the plate’s edge, folding her hands in her lap. She didn’t fully understand the dynamics of the relationship between these two men, but it was quite obvious neither man trusted or even liked the other.

“Shut up, Oliver,” Kingston said in a calm voice.

“What?” Oliver’s eyes widened innocently. “It’s true, isn’t it? You don’t eat off this china every day. It’s reserved for special occasions. And special people.”

Kingston did not reply as Ava’s gaze bounced between the two men. He simply watched Oliver with detached curiosity as Antony set a cup and saucer before the man. After pouring the coffee, the chef scurried away as if recognizing a dangerous situation and the need to distance himself.

Oliver once again nudged Ava with his shoulder, and said in a loud whisper, “It’s his mother’s china, if you haven’t guessed yet. Hell, I can hardly believe he’s allowing me to drink from one of these hallowed cups.”

---