Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 132498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
The hallway is quiet.
Guards stand at a distance, pretending not to watch me.
I take a step. Then another. As I walk, I realize something unsettling . . . no one is looking at me.
Well, that’s not true, but they’re looking at me like I’m supposed to be here. Like I’m not a prisoner.
I reach the staircase and start down, each step echoing as I descend. I’m almost at the bottom when I smell something baking.
I follow the smell like I’m starving, until I step into the kitchen.
Lorenzo.
He stands at the stove wearing black sweatpants and a dark Henley, sleeves shoved up to his forearms, with hair still damp, like he showered.
He’s concentrating on the stove, a pan in one hand, a spatula in the other. Something sizzles in the background. I cock my head and take a peek. He’s making eggs and bacon.
My brain short-circuits at the sight before me. There is something so sexy about Lorenzo being domestic. I swear my ovaries just exploded on the spot.
Get a grip, Victoria.
The chance of my being able to control my thoughts is lost the moment he turns slightly, glancing over his shoulder and looking right at me.
For a second, his eyes go unreadable. Then his gaze drops—to my mouth. My entire body reacts before I can stop myself.
My whole body is warm. Shit, do I have a fever again? It’s not my fault, really . . .
The man is practically undressing me with his eyes.
My pulse flutters as my face is now officially on fire, or at least it feels like it is.
And to pour salt in my wounds, his mouth curves. Damn. He’s not playing fair. Being this sexy should be illegal. And the way he’s enjoying my reaction? Also not fair.
“You’re alive.” He flips something in the pan with effortless skill.
I blink once, trying to right my thoughts, and not think of last night’s kiss. “Morning.” I step farther into the kitchen, arms crossing over my chest. “What are you doing?”
He slides food onto a plate, then sets it on the island like he’s presenting something sacred. “Cooking.”
“I can see that.” I eye the eggs as if they might bite. “Why?”
His brows lift slightly, like he expected me to ask a different question. “Because you’ve barely eaten the past few days.”
My pulse jumps, and I clear my throat in a half-assed attempt not to seem so affected by his concern. “You have staff.”
“I do,” he agrees, grabbing another plate. “But I wanted to do this for you.”
“You did?” I stare at him, then look at the eggs, then back at him.
His mouth twitches. “I did.”
He sets his plate down, like nothing happened, like he didn’t just shake my world. Sure, we kissed last night, but a part of me thought that was a fluke.
But now, in the bright morning light of a new day, while Lorenzo strolls to the coffeepot to pour me a cup, I don’t even know how to react, because it’s obvious something has changed between us, and I can’t help the butterflies flying in my stomach at the idea.
I take a seat at the table, in front of the breakfast he cooked me, as he slides over a hot mug. Then he leans his hip against the counter, watching me. “Eat, Victoria.”
My brows lift. “Is that an order?”
“Yep. Don’t ruin it.” His voice is light and playful, reminding me of the Lorenzo I once knew.
I blink again, and then I stare at the eggs, not knowing what to do with myself. I guess I’ll eat.
I take a bite, and it’s good. Of course, it is. Because Lorenzo excels at everything he does.
I take another bite, then stare at him as I watch him watch me.
His mouth tilts. “Like what you see?”
“You’re the one staring,” I retort.
“Or maybe it’s you, and I’m just following suit.”
“What else am I supposed to do? You’re acting all husbandly.”
He arches a brow. “Because I cooked you breakfast?”
“Yes.”
“Careful . . . I’ll buy a minivan next.”
A laugh bubbles out of my mouth, and his eyes lock onto the movement. His face shifts, his features softening as he watches me.
“So . . .” He taps his fingers lightly against the counter. “I want to take you somewhere.”
My fork pauses midair. “Where?” I ask.
His gaze comes back to mine, steady. “Outside.”
I blink. “I thought I wasn’t allowed outside . . .” The moment the words slip out, I regret it. He just offered me something I want, pissing him off by being snippy isn’t a smart idea. I don’t want Lorenzo to go back to being an asshole.
“That’s a rule I made.” His voice softens. “I can change it.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because you’ve been staring out the windows like a caged animal, and I don’t like it.”
My mouth opens and shuts, and he smiles at the movement.