Chapter 11
Liliana
I blinked at Gerald in confusion, wondering what on earth that was about.
I had known him for barely forty-eight hours, but he didn't seem like a man that lost his cool often.
He cleared his throat as if realizing himself and how odd his behavior was.
"You should not be doing the dishes, Liliana. We have staff for that." He pointed at the dishes.
I managed to pull myself from shock and nodded.
"Yeah, Sel mentioned that. It's fine. I want to do it." I said, still reeling from the office exchange Gerald had just had with his subordinate.
What an ass!
Was this the way he treated his own men?
"But you don't have to. It's beneath you," he gritted out, clearly unhappy with my choice to wash the dishes.
I didn't say anything and just continued cleaning the dishes like I had been before he barged into the breakfast room.
"Liliana..." he warned.
"I said, I want to!" I snapped, shocking even myself.
"Why?" Gerald asked softly. The atmosphere suddenly became charged. All of the emotions I had bottled up came out on the fourth.
"I feel like... I feel like I need to do something, or I'll start thinking and then fall apart, and I can't fall apart... I just can't."
My voice broke, surprising me.
The wedge lodged in my chest seemed to gain two tons. I clenched my fist around the plate as everything that had happened to me in the last week came flooding my mind like a broken dam.
I felt my eyes sting from unshed tears threatening to burst out.
What was going on?
I thought I had it all together?
Gerald frowned, his eyes scanning my face.
"Sorry, I have no idea where that came from."
I quickly turned away from him, wondering why the hell I had snapped at him like that.
I was convinced I had no survival instinct. This man was a fucking alpha and the leader of a group of assassins. I had to be the dumbest wolf alive, snapping at him.
Gerald didn't speak, but I could feel his gaze on me.
I felt him get closer, and then before I knew it, he was pulling me away from the sink towards one of the chairs.
"You have been through a lot. You should be grieving, and doing the dishes won't help."
I looked away.
"I don't need to grieve. I need revenge."
I said, feeling anger flow through my bones.
Why were my emotions so intense now?
Gerald was silent again.
"You will get your revenge. I told you I'll make sure of it."
"Then what are we waiting for?" I asked.
He stared at me, his handsome face impassive.
"Aren't you going to say anything?" I asked when he didn't speak.
"You're not ready yet. I'm handling it," he finally said.
"Bullshit. I am definitely ready." I swallowed, ignoring the lump in my throat.
"I am a man of my word, Liliana. We will get you your revenge, but you have to be patient and in the right headspace. I want this revenge as much as you, but on my terms."
I huffed.
Even if that was true, why the hell would he care about me? He'd been hired to kill me.
"You still aren't going to tell me the truth, are you? Why do you claim to want to help out so much?"
"It is not a claim," he said, his eyes going hard just for a second.
I blinked, surprised.
"Then... Why do you care? Why not just kill me? What aren't you telling me?"
I asked, wiping my eyes with the back of my hands.
All of this was so new and scary to me. I felt out of my element.
My life had completely done a 180 overnight.
Between my father's mysterious death, my brother's accusations and his plan to kill me, and my fiance killing, technically there wasn't much to love.
The betrayal cut way too deep; all I could think about was getting my revenge now.
"Maybe I'm just a kind man," he said, and I almost laughed, thinking he'd just cracked a joke, but when I stared up at his beautiful face, he stared back at me with a serious expression that took me off guard.
The Ravagers weren't kind; he wasn't kind. When I met his eyes, there was no hint of humor, only that same quiet storm simmering beneath the surface.
That scared me more than if he'd growled.
Silently, I rose from the chair and walked back to the sink and continued doing the dishes.
I wanted to storm out, but there wasn't much I could do upstairs; I'd just end up being angrier and crying more. I didn't want to cry. I had been crying for an entire week after my father's death.
I needed something to distract me. Plus I wouldn't be able to rest knowing I had started something and didn't finish.
Gerald appeared beside me, silent and brooding. I thought he was about to stop me from doing the dishes again, but to my surprise, he began to rinse the already washed dishes.
I stared up at him, a small smile appearing on my lips.
After washing, rinsing, and drying, we both began to arrange the plates in the cabinet where they belonged.
After the first cabinet was full, I struggled to reach the top of the shelf.
Gerald appeared behind me, and I stiffened at his proximity.
He took the plate from me and shoved it into the cabinet my hands could not reach.
I felt a delicious heat and pulled to him but ignored it... My body was probably reacting to his sudden proximity.
I gave him the last dish, and as he took it, our hands touched, grazing each other. I froze, and so did he.
A spark shot through me at the contact, unexpected and intense. I think he felt it because he quickly withdrew his hand, like he roached fire, his jaw tightening. The air cracked between us, grew heavier, and crackled with tension neither of us dared acknowledge. My breath hitched. He stepped back, but not before our eyes locked, his completely unreadable, mine swirling with confusion.
He turned around and stormed out, leaving me in a daze and confused.
What was that?
Whatever it was?
It lingered like electricity in the silence of the breakfast room.