Page 32 of My Bloody Valentine

Maya remains standing, her fingers gripping the back of the chair. "How can I trust anything you serve me now?"

"A fair question." I move to the sideboard and lift the silver dome, releasing aromatic steam. "I assure you, this meal contains no... special ingredients. Just free-range chicken, mushrooms, and herbs from my garden."

"You'll forgive me if I'm skeptical." Her eyes narrow as she studies the dish. "I can taste emotions in food, remember? I'll know if you're lying."

"I don't doubt that for a moment." I pour her a glass of wine. "Which is precisely why I wouldn't attempt to deceive you. Not about this."

She runs her finger along the chair's edge, still not sitting. "The chocolates were different though, weren't they?"

"They were. But this is simply lunch." I extend my hand toward the chair again. "You have my word, for whatever that's worth to you now."

Maya's lips press together as she weighs her options. I glimpse the internal struggle playing across her face—her professional side warring with her newfound knowledge of what I am.

"Your word." She laughs softly, without humor. "The word of a man who puts human blood in his chocolates."

"The word of a man who has never lied to you, Maya. Not once."

I watch Maya lower herself into the chair, her movements tense like a cat ready to bolt. The silk of her blouse rustles as she arranges herself, maintaining perfect posture—defensive, controlled.

"The '82 Burgundy pairs beautifully with this dish." I lift the crystal decanter, letting the rich liquid cascade into her glass. The sleeping agent I've added is undetectable, masked by the wine's complex notes of blackberry and oak.

Maya's fingers trace the stem of her glass, but she doesn't drink. "You understand my hesitation."

"Of course." I serve her a portion of the coq au vin, the aroma of mushrooms and thyme rising between us. "Though I hope you'll allow yourself to enjoy the meal. Your gift will confirm there's nothing untoward in it."

She brings the wine to her nose, inhaling. Her synesthesia will pick up the usual notes—fruit, earth, wood—but nothing of the sedative. I've tested this particular combination extensively.

"It smells divine." Maya takes a small sip, letting it roll over her tongue. Her shoulders relax slightly. "And tastes honest."

"I told you—no deception here." I pour my own glass, though mine comes from a separate decanter. "Please, eat while it's hot."

She takes a bite of the chicken, then another. With each taste, I see her professional critic's mask slipping. The wine is doing its work, subtle but steady. Her movements grow languid, her eyes heavy-lidded.

"This is... incredible." Maya blinks slowly, fighting the drowsiness. "The depth of flavor..."

"An old family recipe, as I said." I lean back, watching as she struggles to maintain focus. "Are you feeling alright, Maya? You look flushed."

"I'm..." She sets down her fork, swaying slightly. "Something's not..."

Her eyes roll back, and I catch her before she slumps forward, easing her gently against the chair. Perfect timing. The suite is ready, and now, so is she.

I lift Maya's limp form with practiced ease, carrying her through the connecting door to the Captivity Suite. Her head lolls against my chest, dark hair spilling over my arm. The sedative worked perfectly—she'll sleep for several hours.

The Egyptian cotton sheets whisper as I lay her on the bed. I've chosen cream-colored linens to complement her olive skin tone. Everything must be perfect for when she wakes.

I slip her blazer off, noting how vulnerable she looks in her silk blouse. Her phone tumbles from the pocket, and the screen lights up with a notification.

Still on for tonight? I'm running late. Make it 8p.m.

Perfect timing. I lift Maya's eyelid and hover her phone over her face. The screen unlocks. Her friend Amelia features prominently in her recent messages—they text multiple times daily. I study their conversation patterns, the casual shorthand between close friends.

I type out a response, mimicking Maya's style.

Rain check? I ate something sketchy last night, and my stomach's in knots. I don't want to risk being far from my bathroom. I will call you once I'm feeling better.

Amelia replies almost instantly.

Oh no! Feel better! Let me know if you need anything.

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