The scent hit me hard. Too strong. Too suffocating. I started coughing, over and over, my chest tightening. Tears streamed down my face and I couldn’t stop them.
Drake frowned. “What’s wrong? Are you allergic? Why didn’t you say anything?”
Chiara suddenly came up behind me and covered my eyes with both hands, laughing softly like this was some kind of game.
“Come on, come on, just a few more steps,” she said, gently but firmly pushing me forward. “Don’t peek, okay? I prepared something special for you.”
I didn’t fight her. I just let myself be led. What was the point anymore?
“Alright… ready?” she said, voice bright. “Surprise!”
She let go.
And I saw it.
On the white marble table was raw meat, still dripping with blood, foam clinging to it like it hadn’t even been cleaned properly. The vegetables were burnt black, like they’d been left too long over the flame.
For a second, I just stared.
Was this a joke…? Or was I the joke?
Chiara suddenly gasped and slapped her forehead. “Oh no! I totally forgot. Miss Brightman can’t really see, right? I didn’t think about how this would look…”
She stopped mid-sentence and covered her mouth, like she realized she messed up.