Page 59 of Heart of a Villain

“We’ll talk more later,” Ayesha promised before kissing her cheek. “And the guys went skydiving today, so be prepared to hear all about that. FYI, smiling and nodding won’t work.”

She smiled through a sniffle. “So I have to listen?”

“Actively. And ask questions.”

They hugged again.

“Thank you,” Ayesha said, easing away to stroke her cheek. “Thank you for laughing, for smiling.”

“I should be thanking you.”

“I have some more advice.”

“Lay it on me.”

“Sing. Sing for Adrían. I get the sense that you’re looking for a light, the light. The one inside you that you think is gone, but it’s only misplaced. The cool thing is, I saw it when you sang with me. I felt it. So, sing for Adrían...and sing with me again.”

“When?”

“Every chance you get.”

They hugged one more time.

Then, she waited until she’d seen Ayesha drive off before heading inside. Thanasis and Wren were watching, but she needed to see Ayesha leave safely, regardless of the property’s notorious security.

She went to the kitchen to start dinner for four, but a head of beautiful hair popped up from the oven. That gorgeous hair framed a beautiful face, and he was wearing oven mitts and an apron.

“Olà, querida,” Adrían greeted. “Welcome home. Dinner’s almost ready.”

CHAPTER

SIXTEEN

Low, dulcet notes of a Portuguese ballad hummed from a Bluetooth speaker. An assortment of spices enveloped the kitchen in their warmth, her chef’s nose picking up on beef, garlic, onions, peppers, cinnamon, parsley, and tomatoes.

She braced herself with one hand in the middle of his back and discreetly inhaled his scent. “Hey, I was planning to make dinner for the four of us,” she said. “But whatever you’ve got going on smells amazing.”

“Want to taste?” He reached for a spoon but then pulled back his hand. “On second thought, maybe it’s not a good idea to have a world-class chef sample my home-cooked meal.”

“World-class chef?”

“You have to speak your wishes into the universe, Sayeda. You might be surprised at what it brings you.” The side of his mouth curved upward. “Or brings back to you.”

Had he not needed both of his arms, she would have trapped one and leaned against him, holding it hostage. Instead, she watched him cook while the music mellowed her the rest of the way. Rice simmered in a pot on one of the backburners, and a glass bowl of diced potatoes and carrots filled with water sat on the countertop. Based on her best guess, he was making a picadillo with steamed rice and potato salad for dinner. When they first met, he’d told her he was more than capable of cooking for himself, but this was her first time seeing his expertise.

“Just so you know,” she began, “this ‘world-class chef’ thinks your home-cooked meal looks very five-star restaurant.”

He smiled.

She basked in his smile for a moment before she found the strength to turn back to the stovetop. As much as her brain tried to tell her that this was all too good to be true, and that this was the kind of good fortune that precipitated bad luck of epic proportions, she didn’t give the thoughts too much of her energy.

“You forgot something,” she whispered, tapping the side of his bicep, her chin tilted.

He leaned down and kissed her, the gesture as easy and familiar as if he’d been doing it for a while. It took a moment for her to open her eyes, and when she did, he kissed her nose before he turned back to the stove.

“Do you still sing?” he asked.

“I didn’t for a long time.”

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