We Set the Dark on Fire (We Set the Dark on Fire, #1)(20)
Carmen turned around, the light breeze teasing her curls, a single flower petal drifting to the ground at her feet. The shadow melted off Mateo’s face just in time. Little as Dani liked Carmen, she couldn’t help a strange, protective flare from heating her chest.
“Enjoy your meal,” Carmen said, before disappearing through the kitchen door.
“Shall we?” asked Mateo, back to his boyish charm. How many masks did he have?
“Of course,” Dani said, turning to the table in front of them.
If anything could distract Dani from Mateo’s motivations and Carmen’s perplexing effect on her, it was food.
The hardest part of Primera training for Dani had been learning not to react to the smell or taste of it. To a Primera, food was a necessity, to be eaten at an even pace until one was fueled for the coming hours. Groaning, shoulder-slumping, finger-licking, and the like were heavily frowned upon by the Medio School for Girls maestras, which Dani had discovered to her disappointment on her first day, and most days of her first month there.
In Polvo, Dani and her mama had often eaten tortillas and salt alone for two meals of the day, saving the protein for when her father got home, overworked and hungry. The spread that had been laid out on her first morning of Primera training would have been the stuff of dreams, if her mind had even known to conjure them.
And the food in front of her now made even those meals look drab and uninteresting.
Small ceramic bowls littered the tray, each more seductive than the last. Tiny white beans in tangy green sauce, larger brown ones stained orange and red, slightly mashed with oil. A plate of cut fruit in a rainbow of colors, drizzled with citrusy yogurt sauce and honey, dusted with coarse chili powder. Dani’s mouth began to water before she even reached the slab of crumbling white cheese, the dishes of chunky salsas and smooth sauces with tiny seeds that would sting a grown man’s tongue.
Shoulders back, said the maestra’s voice. Ladylike bites, with generous pauses for conversation. Or at least breathing.
“We eat simply during the week,” Mateo said, spooning beans and cheese onto his plate like they were nothing, reaching for a steaming basket of blue-corn tortillas beside the tray. “On the weekends we’ll all breakfast together, and that’s when the real magic happens.” He winked, but Dani hadn’t recovered from the word simply.
The strange anger from the night before was back, though this time she caught it before her spoon started to shake, tak ing an unobtrusive but deep breath to bring her back to the moment.
“This will do just fine,” she said, loudly enough to drown out the girl she’d been at eleven. Before Primera training. Before the bus to the capital. A girl who had thought a half-rotten mango an unspeakable luxury.
She dipped a tortilla into the steaming red beans, added a few flakes of cheese, and took her first bite in the name of that little girl, who in the back of Dani’s mind was still wondering how anyone could be so out of touch.
“So, se?or,” Dani began, the sight of the newspaper spurring her into action. “I’d love to dig right in and understand what you do. Your work, the causes you champion, your interests politically. No detail is too small.” She smiled, trying to seem interested rather than scolding. But she hadn’t come here to make sure his sangria was the right temperature, and she wanted him to know it.
At first, Mateo seemed amused, but when she didn’t break eye contact the shadow was back, the lines in his face deepening. “Why don’t you make sure you can handle the correspondence and the staff schedules first,” he said, his voice cold again. He’d dropped the script, and Dani’s heart sank. This was the true Mateo after all. “I don’t want someone representing me socially who can’t accomplish a list of simple tasks. I’m sure you understand.”
Dani felt the flash of heat in her cheeks that would become a flush if she let it. She had been trained at an institute for elite wives; how could he possibly think so little of her skills?
His eyebrows were still raised, like he was waiting for her response.
“I thought I’d finished the last of my tests in school,” she said, her voice even and mild. “But of course, your wish is my command.”
“I’ll thank you to watch your tone,” he said, his own face flushing now though his tone had gone colder still. “No one likes a mouthy woman.”
Dani was stunned into silence. He was a high-society husband. A representative of his community, his government, and his family. And here he was insulting her during their first real meeting as husband and wife.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he said, standing and pushing back his chair. “I’ve lost my appetite. See you at dinner, Primera.”
Dani stood as well, reflexively, but he didn’t offer her a hand to shake, and when he’d left the room she realized: he’d called her Primera. Apparently, her mouth had cost her her name.
Back in her office, she found comfort in the stack of applications Roberta had delivered while she was at breakfast. Gardeners, cooks, servers, maids. A house this size required a large staff, and if Mateo wouldn’t allow her to be his partner or his equal, here was something she knew she could do well. Hopefully something that would keep her clear of him and Carmen for as much time as possible.
By sundown, she’d paused only to pick at lunch, and she had a full list of interviews scheduled that would carry her through at least three days. She placed the requests in her outgoing correspondence box and went to bed without dinner, daring Mateo to reprimand her.