Planning My Escape

Emma~

I can’t breathe for all the anger I feel as I walk back towards the house and know that I need to be in that kitchen to take it out on something. Anything.

Chicken Scaloppine it is. I rake around the cupboards finding only chicken breast rather than thighs, but I can make do. Bread will go nicely with the sauce I have in mind so I can happily spend the next hour smashing up chicken and kneading dough.

I just wish it was Orion’s face I could aim for with this rolling pin and not my dinner.

The kitchen is already pretty clean, he must have had a cleaner come in while we were away, so all that is left to do is channel my frustrations into the food... And boy do I channel them.

As I work, I reflect back on all that I’ve seen while touring the forest. Most of the men seemed to be standing stationary while the women were moving around. Leaving me to assume that the men were really just on guard, pretending to catch us by mistake.

Is it not too obvious for Orion to show me where all of his men are positioned? I mean, I made it pretty clear that I don’t want this and it would be easy for me to risk it. Or does he just think of me as another silly woman unable to do anything but wash, cook, and clean? The ‘50s are calling and they want Orion back.

If I know where his guards are positioned, then it should be pretty simple to work my way around them. I don’t know what I’ll do from that point onwards, but the longer I consider going through with it, the more desperate I become.

I can’t stay here and live this life.

Watching the men think that they are superior is nothing compared to what it would be like to watch them harm others. Because that’s what’ll happen, won’t it? His intentions were to take over my family’s business with violence and threats, and it’s just a matter of time before he does it again.

So that’s it then. I now have a plan, and I just hope that I can remain nice long enough to carry it out.

***

“You cooked for us?” Orion looks confused when he walks through the door. I would be too; my intention originally was to tell him to get stuffed, but that would go against my newly formed plan.

“I told you that I enjoy cooking,” I answer, not wanting to lay it on too thick as that would get him suspicious.

“I see you meant it.” He stares at the plates that I’d laid out. They’re perfectly presented and almost as fancy as the dinner I made last night.

“Do you drink wine?” I ask him because I’m going to need a glass if I’m to get through this meal.

He nods, and I pour two glasses of the chardonnay I found and left in the fridge to chill. I prefer red, but this will match my sauce better, and I want to enjoy this. I have no idea when I’ll get the next chance to make it while on the run.

“I know you’re angry with me—” He starts, but I cut him off.

I can already tell this is going to be a slippery slope and I don’t need him to bring up all the reasons I shouldn’t be speaking to him right now.

“Let’s not talk about it, instead why don’t you tell me about yourself?” I inwardly cringe while outwardly trying to smile.

It might not be too convincing but it’s the best I can do given the circumstance. If anything he’ll just think that I’m trying to make an effort... and failing miserably in the process.

“What do you want to know?” He asks while picking up the cutlery I laid out.

I have to say, he’s not making this easy on me, and if I was to reply honestly the answer would be nothing. But that’s not going to work for me right now so what’s the most cliché question to ask a partner?

“Tell me about your childhood?” and when you turned into a horrific monster? I mentally add.

Orion pulls a face and I clench my jaw to stop from making a comment. Isn’t he the one that wants this whole marriage thing? It’s like taking blood from a stone to get a conversation going here.

“I was raised by my father to become the next leader while my mother educated me on normal things. He was pretty strict with what is expected of us given our legacy and he’s made me the man I am today.”

Just from the expression on his face, I can tell that he’s sugarcoating it but I’m in no mood to push. This is supposed to be light-hearted and clearly, this is a darker subject for him.

“What about you?” He asks, and I shrug, not really wanting to give a part of myself over to him, but I have to, don’t I?

“I was raised by my parents. My mother was a cook and taught me all that she knew. She died when I was sixteen, and it’s been just us three ever since.” It feels wrong to talk about my family to him. He threatened them not even twenty-four hours ago, and it’s hard to forget that fact.

But thankfully, the next part of the meal goes a bit better. He manages to actually answer some questions to paint a better picture of himself. Not that I'm really listening, and to keep the ruse alive, I let it slip how far my passion for cooking really goes.

My inner logic is that if I’m leaving tonight, what can he do to ruin it for me?

It also helps that the bottle is there to keep filling up his glass, and he has no issue filling in the silences now with information on his business and what’s expected of me as his future wife.

It’s not as ridiculous as I thought, but it doesn’t matter anymore, does it? I’m expected to make appearances, care about his people, and produce him an heir within the year. I’m actually proud that I managed to swallow my bite after that little comment, and maybe if cooking doesn’t work out for me, I can try a life on the stage?

I hate how he keeps looking at me though. It’s driving me insane to see the candlelight flickering inside of the growing darkness of his eyes.

The expression on his face is almost as if he could eat me alive right here on this table, and a pressure low in my stomach starts to build in me the longer this goes on. Maybe plying him with wine wasn’t one of my finer ideas, but at least he’s in a good mood... if you could call it that.

I could cry from relief when he’s finally finished eating and while faking a yawn, I put on my best version of the puppy dog eyes, previously reserved for my father. I just hope that Orion is a sucker for them too or this might not work.

“Orion...” I pause, making sure to have his full attention and that he’s hooked before asking. The wine has clearly helped me here and the idiot even licks his lips at me.

What does he think I’m going to say?

“I would appreciate my own space tonight... if there’s somewhere else you could maybe go? It’s just that I’m still trying to process things.” I hate how weak my voice sounds right now but it’s needed if he’s going to believe me.

I know it’s pushing it to even ask, but that’s why I’ve been buttering him up this whole time. He’d have yelled at me had I asked with my normal personality and an argument would get me nowhere.

He frowns as I expected him to and grumbles his delivery. “Just tonight.”

My prayers are answered and I can’t wait to put some distance between us.