Page 102 of Reckless Royalty

I roll my eyes, trying to ignore the way my stomach flutters at his playful tone. “Cheese, peppers and mushrooms, please. And for the record, pineapple has no place in an omelet.”

“Smart girl,” he says, turning on the stove. “Cheese, peppers and mushrooms it is.”

I watch as he moves around the kitchen, so at home in his own skin, so effortlessly confident, and I can’t help but admire the way he carries himself.

“You always stare at your boyfriends while they’re cooking?” he suddenly asks and my heart skips a beat.

“Boyfriend?” I echo, raising an eyebrow. “Is that what we’re calling you now?”

He glances at me again, his smirk softening into something almost playful. “What else would you call me?”

I open my mouth to respond, but the words get stuck somewhere between my brain and my tongue. Damn him and his stupidly perfect everything.

Instead, I settle for, “We’ll see how this omelet turns out before we start assigning titles.”

He laughs again, and I hate how my core clenches at the sound. “Fair enough. But if this omelet doesn’t win you over, I might have to pull out the big guns.”

“And what exactly are the big guns?” I ask, leaning forward despite myself.

“Want me to show you again?” he says, his tone suggestive enough to make my cheeks flush all over again.

I rest my chin in my hand, watching as he chops some bell peppers with a precision that’s almost hypnotic. “Do you always talk yourself up like that?”

He grins, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. “Only when I know I can deliver.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips. “Modesty clearly isn’t your strong suit.”

“Modesty’s for people who don’t have anything to back it up,” he counters. “Lucky for you, I’m not one of those people.”

The way he says it, in that deep, accented voice of his, makes the words sound less arrogant and more like a promise. And damn if I’m not tempted to see just how much he can back it up.

“You cook a lot?” I ask, trying to distract myself from the fact that I’m blatantly ogling him.

He glances at me over his shoulder, a grin tugging at his lips. “Yeah, when I have time. It’s relaxing. Plus, Marina’s a disaster in the kitchen, so someone had to step up.”

I laugh, picturing Marina trying to cook. “I can see that. She strikes me as the ‘order takeout and call it a day’ type.”

“Oh, she is,” Mihai says, his tone affectionate. “But she means well. She tried to make spaghetti once and ended up setting the sauce on fire.”

I laugh again, the sound spilling out before I can stop it. “How in the bloody hell do you even set sauce on fire?”

“Beats me,” he says with a shrug. “But somehow, she managed it. Smoke alarms, fire extinguisher, the whole nine yards. She hasn’t stepped foot in the kitchen since.”

He shakes his head, a soft chuckle escaping him as he sprinkles cheese and mushrooms into the pan. The smell fills the kitchen, and my stomach growls loudly, betraying me.

Mihai glances at me, his smirk widening. “Hungry, are we?”

I roll my eyes, my cheeks warming. “Shut up.”

“Hey, no shame,” he says, flipping the omelet with ease. “I’m about to make you the best breakfast of your life. You’ll probably fall in love with me on the spot.”

“Big talk,” I shoot back, unable to keep the smile off my face. “You better deliver, Crown Prince.”

His grin turns wicked, and he winks at me. “Oh, I always deliver, baby,” he says, his tone so casual it makes my cheeks flush again. “Now stop distracting me, or your omelet’s gonna burn.”

I watch as he works, and there’s something almost domestic about the sight of him cooking, his tattoos stark against his tanned skin, his hair still slightly mussed from sleep. “You’re entirely too confident for your own good.”

“Confidence is a Crown thing,” he says with a shrug, turning off the stove and sliding the omelet onto a plate. He sprinkles some cheese on top before setting it on the counter in front of me with a grin. “There. Made with love and a little bit of showing off.”

---