Page 55 of Wanted

“You’re tired, you’ve been at it for a long time. Why don’t you let me take care of that?”

The pitcher in my hands, which helps pour the mixture into the mold so that it doesn’t spill, almost falls out. Luckily, Lionel reacts quickly and balances the mold with his hand.

But something is very clear. Cooking isn’t his thing.

“What are we going to have for dinner? Frozen lasagna?” I ask, raising an eyebrow, smiling a little.

He makes a face, pretending to be offended. “Why, Mrs. Kral…” I love when he calls me that. “This old lion has his tricks, I’m a prodigy at making PB&J, as well as pressing the microwave buttons. But I also have more tricks than that, you just relax and I’ll take care of it.”

Rather than putting everything in perspective, the attack has completely changed him. The person in front of me is a new man. I love this amended, edited, and deluxe version. Not to mention his hard, defined muscles.

“Let’s get this over with first,” I tell him, moving the container a little so the mixture reaches the bottom. “We’ll talk about relaxing later.”

“Your wish is my command, my lady,” he says with a gentlemanly bow.

What I’ll give for him to undress and present his sword.

A girl can dream.

Half an hour later, we’re finished filling the molds that I had ready earlier. Like every night after dinner, Lionel helps me clean, only this time instead of food, there are essential oils and other supplies for soap-making.

As we organize the things on an empty shelf in the pantry, Lionel, as curious as ever, starts to open the essential oil bottles.

“This smells great,” he says, with the bergamot essential oil bottle in his hands. “What’s it for?”

My plan has been unveiled.

“I’ve been thinking about creating a line of soaps for men,” I confess. “Not necessarily for Catherine’s party but in the future, it may turn out well. Don’t you think?”

He smells the vial again, this time with more interest. “Do you know what you’re going to blend it with?”

“Mint and bergamot mix well, and honey, of course.”

Lionel closes the bottle and smiles, staring at me. “Well, I’ll be your guinea pig then.”

“You want to smell like me?” I ask him, the double meaning does not escape either of us.

“You have no idea how much.”

* * *

After leaving dinner in Lionel’s hands, I go upstairs for a long, well-deserved shower. Lionel said I shouldn’t go downstairs before eight-thirty or I’ll ruin the surprise, so I have plenty of time to call Alison. It seems like we haven’t spoken in centuries. I drop onto the bed with the phone to my ear.

“It was about time you remembered us—the poor folk,” she says after answering the second ring.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I rebuke her. The sunset has tinted the white ceiling of the room we shared since we left the hospital ten days ago pink and orange. “I’ve been busy.”

“I imagine, with that husband of yours, he must be keeping you very busy, hussy…”

Alison isn’t Lionel’s biggest fan, she was my only confidant and she knows of all the problems we had back in Carrollton.

“Lionel has changed a lot, Alison,” I begin to explain. “This very afternoon he offered to help me establish my online store.”

I hear a gasp come from the other end of the line. “Well, it seems he has changed, now let’s see how long it lasts.”

“Alison,” I scold her, I imagine her running her hands through her red hair. “Lionel has really changed, I’ve been talking to this girl who knows him well. Her husband is a friend of Lionel, the one in charge of his security.”

I tell her what Catherine and I talked about. To her credit, I must say that Alison listens to me, although in the end she adds, “Just be careful, Ella, I don’t want your heart to break again. As you tell me, this new Lionel isn’t just dangerous, he’s lethal.”

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