Page 56 of No Longer Safe

“Why?”

He scowled. “You ask a lot of questions.”

I rolled my eyes to the ceiling. “You’re in my bed, I think that warrants all the questions.”

A smirk curled his lips and that fire entered my belly again. What was with this man?

“Is there something you wanted?’

His face grew serious and I didn’t know what to think. “How are you feeling?”

My lips parted but no sound came out. “Do you actually care?”

He nodded and for once, I believed him. I sank down on the corner of the bed, careful not to touch him. Careful to stay as far away from him as I could manage.

“I’m tired,” I let out a breath. Brian must have known I would be coming home soon. The calls started when we made it back to Ace’s penthouse. Either he was ready to get back togetherand beg my forgiveness or he wanted the ring back. Neither of those things would be happening. He didn’t leave a message or send a text so I didn’t know what to think. “I didn’t eat much this morning before we left your parent’s estate and then they pumped us full of alcohol all day and then we skipped lunch. I don’t know, it’s just been a lot.”Plus Brian.

His lips turned into a deep frown. “You haven’t eaten today?”

I shook my head. A muffin.

He hopped off of my bed and grabbed my hand before he yanked me out of the bedroom and down the stairs to the kitchen. He sat me down at the island and started pulling things out of the fridge. It was my turn to frown. “What are you doing?”

He held up a carton of eggs. “Cooking for you, isn’t that obvious?”

“Excuse me?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Didn’t they have people for that?

“Ace’s help was told to take the weekend off, so might as well put my skills to the test.”

“You know how to cook?”

He ran his tongue over his bottom lip and I couldn’t stop myself from staring at the motion. “Unlike Ace, I don’t have hired help. I don’t have a chef, unless I order my meals prepped for me for the week. I order takeout occasionally, but I like to do things for myself.”

“Ohhh, the rich kid knows how to take care of himself, does he?”

His eyes darkened as he whirled around at me. His voice lowered as he glowered across the kitchen. I hit a nerve. He pointed the spatula at me. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t live off of mommy and daddy’s money and do nothing with my time.”

“Oh?” I didn’t know what to say. What else was there to say? He was angry now.

He clenched his jaw and shook his head. “Everything I have, I’ve worked for it. The only thing I didn’t pay for or take care of myself growing up was my Ivy League degree because I needed to keep up appearances.”

He plated up whatever he put together in the skillet—that smelled incredible— and slid it across the island to me. He leaned against the counter but wouldn’t make eye contact with me again. I’d struck a really bad nerve.

“Look,” I started as I picked up the fork on the corner of the plate. “I didn’t mean it like that. I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings. I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

His smile was sad and it did something to my insides. What was wrong with this man? How did he have such an effect on me? "Don’t apologize. I’ve been putting up with this appearance for a long time. It usually doesn’t make me so angry when people make assumptions.”

“And now?”

He began to walk away and I didn’t think I would get an answer from him until he stopped in the open doorway. “I want you to know who I really am.”

Everything faded away with his words. There was a pang in my chest as he left but I couldn’t stop him. I wouldn’t stop him, this was getting entirely too complicated. It hurt. It was confusing. The last thing I needed to do was get into a situationship with this man. The omelet he cooked me was the most delicious thing I’d ever had, but I could hardly taste it as his words played on repeat in my mind.

Carina skipped down the steps and stopped cold. “Ohhh, what’s that? I thought Georgie was off this weekend. It smells heavenly. It pulled me out of a nap.”

Georgie was an incredible cook. I’d only had a few of her dinners and lunches, but I completely gorged on herbaked goods every chance I got.There was usually fresh bread, homemade by Georgie, in the pantry.

“Georgie didn’t make this, Alexei did.”

---