Page 7 of Cold

ChapterThree

ROMARE

I satat the kitchen table and pulled my legs up into the chair. Vito turned around and placed a plate in front of me. The sandwich he'd made looked like something you would get from a sub shop. It was huge! There was a pile of chips beside the sandwich too and I picked one up and popped it into my mouth.

My hungry stomach devoured the thing and made the ache grow bigger. How long had it been since I'd had a decent meal? Weeks, probably. Sergei liked his boys skinny and taking away food was another form of his control. We had to earn our meals; he said that made us appreciate them more.

Thinking about Sergei made me get myself back under control. I ripped off a piece of bread and nibbled on it, trying to remember the manners that had been drilled into my head. No matter how hungry I was, I had to eat slowly, measured, and with control. Otherwise, Sergei would get upset and call me a pig.

Every morsel that hit my tongue though was like heaven. I took each bit apart and chewed slowly before I went for another. My stomach growled at me, rushing me to hurry up, but I stayed in control.

"What are you doing?" Vito asked. When I looked up, he was scowling. "Your stomach is makin' so much damn noise I can't think straight. Why are you picking at it? You want something else or something?"

I shook my head hard. "No, it's not that!" I said before I tugged at my bottom lip. "I'm taking my time, that's all. Sergei always wanted us to be dainty and appealing. Stuffing my face would be gross."

Vito narrowed his eyes at me. "Boy, if you don't pick up that damn sandwich and eat it like you want it, I'll take it away."

He reached out and I snatched the plate toward me so fast it teetered on the edge of the table. I pushed it back a bit, but I continued to watch him carefully. No one was going to take my meal away.

"That's what I thought," he said. "Eat. And you better finish every single goddamn bite. I went out of my way to make that for you so don't waste it."

I blinked at him. That's right, he had gone out of his way to make it for me. I wasn't used to people doing things for me anymore. There were chefs and takeout delivered or at the very least a grunt that could whip me up a quick meal, but no one had made me food with their own two hands in a long time. Not like this.

Thinking about it conjured up images of my mother. As soon as they surfaced, I shoved them back down where they belonged. There was no going back to her. I could never go home again.

That's not my home. The only home I have is with Sergei.

I shut down the bad thoughts that sat just at the back of my brain threatening to break free and picked up the sandwich. After staring at it for a moment, I ignored the way my stomach twisted and bit into it. Dressing ran out and dribbled down my chin, but I didn't care. I dove in and took another bite. And another. In between, I grabbed a handful of chips and shoved them into my mouth.

This is amazing.

It was so simple, but it made me smile. Vito slid a glass over toward me, popped open a can of Coke, and poured it over ice. I snatched that up too and drank until my teeth hurt from how cold it was. A burp popped out of my mouth, and I slapped a hand over my face.

"Sorry!" I said automatically. "I didn't mean to do that," I said as I stared at Vito. "It won't happen again."

He waved a hand dismissively. "Eat," he said.

I didn't take my eyes off of him at first, but the food was too tempting. In the next second, I forgot all about Vito Bianchi and stuffed my face. When I was done, I pushed the plate away and rubbed my belly.

"Can I have some more?" I asked slowly.

"Yeah, kid. You can have some more," he said as he stood up and took my plate. "How long has it been since you've eaten?"

I squirmed in my seat as he walked around the kitchen and made me another sandwich. "Um, a few days I guess," I mumbled. "I don't really remember."

He glanced over his shoulder at me. "Why?"

I shrugged. "Sergei didn't like my attitude. And besides, the thinner the better in his eyes. All the boys he's had have been skinny and he doesn't want us to gain a pound."

Vito paused and turned to me. "Us?" He frowned. "There are more like you?"

Shit. There I go again talking too fucking much.

There was something about Vito that disarmed me. Whenever I spoke to Sergei or any of his men or the ones he brought around that I knew were higher ups in the family, I knew how to speak perfectly. I chose every single word before it left my mouth and I made sure I never fucked up. But with Vito? My tongue kept wagging stupidly.

"Tell me or no more food."

A whimper slipped free. "No, I'm still hungry," I said as I gazed up at him.

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