Page 58 of Sigma

“Consuela.”

“Are you under some kind of instructions to not speak to me?”

A shake of her head. “DonApollo, no speak with him. He like only…” she touches her index finger to her lips. “Siempre silencioso.”

“Well, I am notDonApollo. You can talk to me.”

A shrug. “You want…comer?”

I shake my head. “No, thanks. Maybe later.”

A nod, a bow. “Bueno. Comerás más tarde.”

“Consuela?”

She turns back, face posing the question her voice does not.

“Is there anyone else here besides you and me?”

Her hesitation is noticeable. “Sí.Many others. You stay…biblioteca.”

And so, I stay in the library. All that day. Much of the next.

* * *

I’ve dozedoff in the library, in a chair in a corner of the second level, reading a white-glove copy of Voltaire. I hear a scrape, a footstep.

He’s there, a few feet away. Gray trousers, black loafers, a white button-down, open to his chest. Hair smoothed back, simple black Ray-Ban sunglasses pushed up on the top of his head. He has a large brown paper bag in one hand.

“I brought you some clothes.”

I stand up—I’m still wearing the gym shorts and polo shirt of his. “You did, hmm? More slinky cocktail dresses that barely cover me?”

He paces closer to me and sets the bag down. “No.” A wry smirk. “Although you did look ravishing in that dress.”

“If by ravishing you mean slutty, then yes.”

He frowns. “To accentuate your lovely body is not slutty, Corinna. Such a strangely prudish manner of thinking.”

“It’s just not how I typically dress.”

“You typically live in bathing suits.”

I laugh. “I do live on a Caribbean Island. I’m supposed to wear a parka?”

A shrug. “Perhaps not.” He gestures at the bag. “This is not what you are accustomed to, but it is not a cocktail dress.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why bring me clothes?”

A shrug. “We are lunching in the orangery in a few minutes. I thought you might like to be more appropriately dressed.”

“The orangery?”

“Change, and I’ll show you.”