Yay for me.
I turned over onto my back, feeling grumpy and out of sorts. I had this dull headache rolling up from the back of my skull to whack me right between the eyes. I closed my eyelids, and at last drifted into a light slumber.
I woke up when it was still dark. Of course. I glanced at my watch to see that it was four in the morning. I’d only slept for three hours. At least my headache had gone away.
But now, I was starving. I’d eaten dinner, but apparently my stomach had decided it wanted breakfast early. I threw on my robe, then padded downstairs to the kitchen. I doubted anyone else would be up. Once there, I searched around for something easy. Rosa usually made these elaborate meals, so I was sure she’d have a variety of ingredients down there.
I hadn’t cooked since I’d been here. Even though it used to be my primary skill, I hadn’t had to put it into practice since Rosa did all the meal prep. I didn’t miss doing it. It’d been something I was good at, but it’d also been a chore. I dug around the many cupboards, not finding anything that appealed to me, then peeked into the huge fridge.
There was lots of food, but it was the carton of eggs that caught my interest. I turned one of the gas burners on and started to scramble the yolks and whites together. I saw a bottle on the counter. The contents inside had separated out. I pulled the cork and smelled it: oil and vinegar. I’d never put something like this on my eggs before, but it sounded good.
I shook the bottle and poured some in a skillet with the egg mixture. It smelled delicious.
Without bothering to put it on a plate, I started eating the eggs right from the pan. It burned my tongue, so I blew on the next bite. God, I was so hungry. I couldn’t seem to get it into my mouth fast enough.
After finishing my extremely early breakfast, I cleaned up and headed back upstairs. Maybe I could get a couple more hours of sleep before the texts and phone calls started streaming in. I had so much to do today.
I was halfway up the stairwell when a cramp hit me. It wasn’t a menstrual cramp, but a stomach cramp, accompanied by just enough nausea to make me put my hand over my mouth. The pain of it doubled me over, and I stopped where I was, attempting to breathe through it.
Crap, what if those eggs had gone bad? Or the oil and vinegar? Maybe it’d sat out on the counter for too long.
I thought about going back to check the date on the eggs, but I felt pretty terrible. I needed to get back to bed. I continued to climb up the rest of the stairs, gripping the railing the entire way. Then, I edged toward my room, leaning on the wall. My door seemed like it was miles away, but I had to get there.
By the time I did, I felt near to collapse. Stupid food poisoning!
I seized the small trash can from my bathroom and with barely enough strength to crawl back under my blankets, I laid my head on the pillow and fell into a deep sleep.
I was awakened by movement. Someone was shaking me, and the motion made me seasick, so I told them to go away. Or at least, I thought I did. I never actually heard the words leave my mouth. I felt like I’d been run over by a Mack truck. I slit my eyes open but that hurt, so I promptly closed them again.
“What’s wrong with her?” came a voice, Luca’s. It sounded like it was coming from several feet away, which made no sense. How could he shake me and be across the room at the same time?
“Hangover?” a female voice this time, coming from right next to me, but it wasn’t Rosa or Greta, the nanny. It took me a long minute to identify it as the rude housekeeper’s, Francesca. She kept my room neat and my clothing freshly pressed, but I rarely if ever saw her.
I pulled my arms out from under the bedlinens to push her away. “I’m not drunk. I have food poisoning.” I’d meant to yell at both of them for blustering into my room like they had, but my words came out as little more than a whisper.
There were some mumbles I couldn’t make out, then a cool hand covered my forehead. “You’re not feverish, at least.” Luca again. “What did you eat, Molly?”
“Eggs with oil and vinegar.”
“Yuck, no wonder you’re sick.”
“Hey, don’t judge me. It tasted good at the time.” He removed his hand and slowly, I pulled my eyes open again. It didn’t hurt so bad this time. Maybe my headache was going away. I looked around. We were alone. I glanced up into his face. It’d been a while since I’d been this close to him.
His eyes had slate gray circles under them, and there was a grim set to his mouth. He looked as exhausted as I felt, even after I’d gotten some sleep last night. He also seemed… down. His expression reminded me a little too vividly of how he’d looked the night of his father’s murder, the night I’d watched him sob over his daughter, believing she’d been shot, too.
I wished I didn’t have that memory. Seeing him like that had been part of the reason it’d been so easy to fall in love with him. Even now, thinking of it made me want to touch him, soothe him. Which was nothing but foolishness. Whatever he might be down about, it wasn’t me.
But then that must mean…
“Is Anna okay?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t she be?” He frowned, watching me carefully.
“It’s just… never mind. Oh, God, I haven’t checked my texts and Matteo was supposed to…” I forced myself into a seated position, and my stomach churned so wildly I reached for my trash can again.
Luca bent and handed it to me. “Don’t worry about any of that. We’ve got it covered.” I squinted my eyes closed. “Have you vomited at all?” he asked me after the moment passed.
“No. I haven’t let myself. I hate puking up my guts.”