At 5 pm Eliza entered the dining room as her uncle had directed. He wasn't waiting as she thought. Only one table setting had food, along with a note.

I will be eating in the office due to some late work.

-Shere K.

Eliza released a breath she didn't know she was holding. She guessed it was from relief, but there was something else. Disappointment? But it's not like I know him. Or even care. Maybe it was the sheer emptiness of the dining room. She was used to eating alone when her dad fell asleep, but she never felt alone. The kitchen back home was small and Silas was just across the hall. Now even Shere Khan's intimidating presence would be welcome. Almost.

A knock woke her up in the morning. "Come in," she mumbled. Out of habit, she expected her father to open the door. A shorter, skinnier tiger wearing a bow tie entered with a breakfast tray, reminding her where she was.

"Good morning, Miss Khan," the newcomer stuttered, setting the tray on her lap.

"Uh, morning," she replied, accepting the tray. "Thank you." The smell of waffles woke her appetite but didn't overwhelm her surprise. "Where's Uncle Shere?"

"He had some morning work."

Of course, thought Eliza.

"So, he told me to bring you your breakfast."

"Thank you. Uh, what's your name?"

"John." He nervously gripped his tail. "Can I get you anything else, Miss Khan?" the tiger nervously gripped his tail.

He probably thinks I'm like Uncle Shere. "No. You can just call me Eliza."

"Of course, Miss Eliza." He was out of the room before she could further correct him.

Oh well. She was more interested in the waffles anyway.

There wasn't much else to do that day except read Treasure Island. John brought her lunch and dinner in without having to tell her the reason. Shere Khan lived and breathed his company. Eliza wondered if he even slept.

The rest of the week was the same. The only company outside of her book was John when he brought the meals.

One day, she tried talking to him. "What's it like working for my uncle?"

"Absolutely wonderful," he replied. There was something to jovial. He never stopped gripping his tail when he spoke.

"You know you can be honest," she said. "I promise I won't tell."

John peaked, as if that was the first time someone listened. He then reverted to his nervous self. "I am being honest. Mr. Khan is very gracious."

Eliza wanted to push further, but she didn't need to. The signs were obvious. "He's that scary, huh?"

"What? No!" John stammered.

"Don't worry, I won't tell him." Eliza smiled. "He doesn't talk to me anyway."

"Oh," John stopped stammering and looked at her sympathetically.

"It's fine. I know he's busy." And I don't know how to talk to him anyway. If she said so out loud, John would just feel sorrier for her.

Before she could ask more questions, John said, "Well, sorry I can't stay long but I really shouldn't keep Mr. Khan waiting."

"I understand," Eliza nodded, hiding her disappointment. John may have been a nervous wreck, but at least he was nice. Once he left, Eliza decided she would never work for a tycoon like Shere Khan. After that, Eliza kept her conversations with John as short as possible, which was often too short. If Shere Khan was busy, so was John.

Treasure Island still took up her day. That was fine until the sixthreading. By that point, she decided to explore the apartment. At first, the thought of being anywhere in this big unfamiliar place sent chills, but boredom was more torturous than fear. If she was quiet, she wouldn't bother her uncle.

When she stepped out of her room, the door at the end of the corridor caught her eye. Shere did point out the bathrooms and dining rooms, and she guessed the rest were more bedrooms. But he didn't say where that one went.

He didn't say I couldn't go in either, she thought smugly.

Eliza crept to the door and opened it a crack, making sure it was empty before entering. She found herself on a balcony overlooking Shere's office. The massive room and millions of plants made it less of an office and more like a jungle. The vast window overlooked Cape Suzette's entirety. City lights glimmered like fireflies. Eliza lingered to admire the scenery before noticing the bookshelves along the balcony.

They must have held enough books to last her through adulthood. Eliza ran her fingers along their spines, reading the titles and inhaling their musty scent, until the name Moby Dick appeared. Her mother's favorite book. When Eliza was little, she asked her to read the book to her. Rose had smiled and promised to teach her how to read, then Eliza could read it to her mother instead. A knot formed in Eliza's throat when she opened the book.

Call me Ishmael. Some years ago, - never mind how long precisely - having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail-

"Those aren't children's books, you know."

Eliza jumped, dropping the book. Shere Khan stood by the door with crossed arms, and the same displeased expression he always held. I didn't even hear him! She felt like a thief caught in the act, which may very well be how he saw her.

"Sorry," she stammered.

"Each of those books cost fifty dollars." He didn't sound angry. Just mildly annoyed. Considering his fortune, the books could be worth only fifty cents in his eyes.

Eliza winced. She gingerly picked up the book, avoiding his stare. "I think it's still okay." She checked the book over. Finding no damage, she placed it back on the shelf. Now she had no choice but to meet her uncle's eyes. If only he would get the scolding over with. Anything would be better than silence.

"Care to explain what you're doing?" He finally asked.

"Looking for a book." Eliza replied in a low voice.

"What book?"

"I don't know." This was beginning to sound like an interrogation. "I brought only one book with me, so I wanted to find something new."

"And you didn't think to ask?"

"No." Sneaking was easier. Of course, getting caught hadn't occurred to her. "Sorry." She wondered if even Shere Khan could lose his composure. Maybe he would yell at her. Instead he picked up and inspected Moby Dick.

"I doubt you would like this anyway, it's a bit complex for a twelve-year old."

"That's what my mom said." She didn't know what made her tell him. Somehow it felt natural.

Shere raised an eyebrow. "She taught you how to read?"

"Yes," Eliza's eyes widened. "How-?"

"What else have you read?"

"Jane Eyre, Oliver Twist, Sherlock Holmes."

"Your mother's books I take it?"

"Yes."

"Of course." He sounded like he expected this answer. A pause fell over them. Shere's eyes didn't leave the book. Maybe he was deciding the appropriate punishment. Finally, he handed her back the book. "If it's still intact, you can borrow another."

Eliza beamed. "You mean it?" she gasped.

"I'm letting you off this once, but in the future, I want you to ask before opening any more doors."

"Yes, sir," she cringed. "I'm sorry I didn't ask." Shere nodded, but that was probably the only way he could show acceptance. Eliza hugged the book, as if it was a new friend. "I promise I'll be careful." Without even waiting for a dismissal, she bounded past him and headed for her room.

Now that he was alone, Shere Khan allowed himself a rare smile.