Read Online Bound by Fate by Sherilyn Gray - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sherilyn Gray
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California?”
He pressed his lips together firmly, and
paused for a moment, as though he were debating whether or not to answer me.
“My father died a few years back,” he replied. “Although I did not see him much
in his later years... My mother abandoned me when I was six years old. Are you
ready to order?”
The change in topic took me by surprise, and
I stared down at the closed menu. “I—I can’t read,” I stammered. I never felt
so self conscious over the fact that I could only read a few simple words. I
thought he would’ve known that by now.
“It’s in French, so I wasn’t expecting you to
anyway,” he said dryly as the waiter came up to take our order. Victor said a
few words to him in French before the waiter nodded and collected our menus.
I listened to them enviously, wishing I could
speak a language that sounded so beautiful. Victor chuckled at something the
waiter said to him and I realized I enjoyed hearing the sound. He didn’t seem
to laugh too often.
“Do you like working for your company?” I
asked him once we were alone again.
He chuckled. “I don’t know if ‘like’ is the
correct term for something that has been ingrained into my life since birth. I
was always meant to take it over from my father. Once I graduated high school,
I studied business at Yale, and by the time I finished, my dad was ready to
take me under his wing.” Victor looked thoughtful. “I suppose I never really
thought about whether I like it or not. It’s just who I am.”
Your identity . “I’m sorry about your parents. I wish I knew who mine
were.”
The waiter came back with a bottle of red
wine. He popped the cork and poured us both a glass. Victor took a sip of it.
“You don’t remember?”
“I only remember the last two years of my
life.” I shrugged.
“Lucky you. Sometimes I wish I could forget
that much of my life.”
I wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be a
joke or not. His face was always so unreadable. His comment, however, made me
angry. He had no idea what it was like to have a black hole in his memory, so
how could he say something like that so casually?
“You’re lucky you know who your family is,” I
whispered, mostly to myself.
“Are you glad to be off the streets?”
For the first time I heard a hint of
hesitation in his voice as he asked me the question. I chose my words
carefully. “The night that Marian found me was the coldest night I’d ever
experienced in San Francisco. It was so cold and wet that even though I was
dressed in layers, I was still soaked to the bone.” I closed my eyes at the
memory. “So to answer your question: yes, I am glad to be away from all of that.
I would be crazy if I wasn’t. You don’t know what it’s like out there, worrying
every night whether or not you’ll be alive the next morning…” I finally
remembered who I was talking with. “...Sir,” I added.
“No, I suppose I don’t know what that’s
like,” he said, and that was the end of it.
It wasn’t long until we were served an
appetizer, which was a heaping plate of what looked like bunch of snail shells.
My stomach churned at the sight of them. “Are those what I think they are?”
“Escargot. French delicacy.” He took a pair
of small, silver pincers that was given to us with the appetizer and picked one
up and set it on his plate. Then, with the tiniest fork I have ever seen, he
jabbed inside the shell and pulled out a slimy little morsel before popping it
into his mouth. “Don’t worry; I’m sure all you will taste is the garlic.”
Well, I guess there is a first for
everything. I picked up my own set of pincers to start eating but stopped short
as the vibrator went off. Warily, I glanced up at Victor. “You forgot to unfold
your napkin and put it on your lap before eating.”
I pursed my lips as I set down the pincers
and unfolded the napkin, setting it neatly on my lap. I
He pressed his lips together firmly, and
paused for a moment, as though he were debating whether or not to answer me.
“My father died a few years back,” he replied. “Although I did not see him much
in his later years... My mother abandoned me when I was six years old. Are you
ready to order?”
The change in topic took me by surprise, and
I stared down at the closed menu. “I—I can’t read,” I stammered. I never felt
so self conscious over the fact that I could only read a few simple words. I
thought he would’ve known that by now.
“It’s in French, so I wasn’t expecting you to
anyway,” he said dryly as the waiter came up to take our order. Victor said a
few words to him in French before the waiter nodded and collected our menus.
I listened to them enviously, wishing I could
speak a language that sounded so beautiful. Victor chuckled at something the
waiter said to him and I realized I enjoyed hearing the sound. He didn’t seem
to laugh too often.
“Do you like working for your company?” I
asked him once we were alone again.
He chuckled. “I don’t know if ‘like’ is the
correct term for something that has been ingrained into my life since birth. I
was always meant to take it over from my father. Once I graduated high school,
I studied business at Yale, and by the time I finished, my dad was ready to
take me under his wing.” Victor looked thoughtful. “I suppose I never really
thought about whether I like it or not. It’s just who I am.”
Your identity . “I’m sorry about your parents. I wish I knew who mine
were.”
The waiter came back with a bottle of red
wine. He popped the cork and poured us both a glass. Victor took a sip of it.
“You don’t remember?”
“I only remember the last two years of my
life.” I shrugged.
“Lucky you. Sometimes I wish I could forget
that much of my life.”
I wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be a
joke or not. His face was always so unreadable. His comment, however, made me
angry. He had no idea what it was like to have a black hole in his memory, so
how could he say something like that so casually?
“You’re lucky you know who your family is,” I
whispered, mostly to myself.
“Are you glad to be off the streets?”
For the first time I heard a hint of
hesitation in his voice as he asked me the question. I chose my words
carefully. “The night that Marian found me was the coldest night I’d ever
experienced in San Francisco. It was so cold and wet that even though I was
dressed in layers, I was still soaked to the bone.” I closed my eyes at the
memory. “So to answer your question: yes, I am glad to be away from all of that.
I would be crazy if I wasn’t. You don’t know what it’s like out there, worrying
every night whether or not you’ll be alive the next morning…” I finally
remembered who I was talking with. “...Sir,” I added.
“No, I suppose I don’t know what that’s
like,” he said, and that was the end of it.
It wasn’t long until we were served an
appetizer, which was a heaping plate of what looked like bunch of snail shells.
My stomach churned at the sight of them. “Are those what I think they are?”
“Escargot. French delicacy.” He took a pair
of small, silver pincers that was given to us with the appetizer and picked one
up and set it on his plate. Then, with the tiniest fork I have ever seen, he
jabbed inside the shell and pulled out a slimy little morsel before popping it
into his mouth. “Don’t worry; I’m sure all you will taste is the garlic.”
Well, I guess there is a first for
everything. I picked up my own set of pincers to start eating but stopped short
as the vibrator went off. Warily, I glanced up at Victor. “You forgot to unfold
your napkin and put it on your lap before eating.”
I pursed my lips as I set down the pincers
and unfolded the napkin, setting it neatly on my lap. I
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