Page 43 of Omission

I’ve never been allowed to cook before, but they indulge my questions and desire to learn. They don’t restrict my diet, either.

My meals are just like everyone else’s and the changes in my body have been positive. I’m glowing and smiling; my ribs are padded with enough flesh that they no longer poke out the sides giving me a gaunt appearance.

I’m happier than ever, but this woman has the ability to cause my beautiful bubble to pop.

“That she is, my child.” The older of the two, the same woman who stood by Chiara’s side as Leonardo banished her last week, looks down her nose at me. She has the same sour look on their face, too. Yet if they knew that to me they reek. A little like garbage, and a lot like a cloying vanilla perfume. “Some women just have no self-respect.”

“Didn’t my mate kick you out of his lands? Why are you here?” I ask, causing a few of the women in the kitchen to chuckle. I’ve gotten to know them. Spent some time helping around the house—even when they kicked me out or asked me to sit down because I was a special guest—I enjoyed our every interaction. “Should I call him?”

“Go ahead, Miss Larue. Please do so, and tell him the Rossi coven is here.” Chiara’s too cocky, but I find it peculiar that she does say she’s here but uses the name of her coven. “Or do you need me to do it for you?”

“Please seat yourselves in the living room. Someone will bring you refreshments.” It’s easy, but I fall right back into the role my father drilled into me. Pleasant. Fake smile. “Anything in particular you’d like to drink?”

“Water or a Coke is fine.”

I can feel the questioning gaze of those around me, the ones who matter, but I ignore them and wave the guests out of the kitchen. And while they walk, their heels clacking against the flooring, I pull out the cell phone Leonardo bought me a few days after we arrived.

“Anaya, can you come here for a moment,” Leonardo calls from the front door a little before lunch. He stepped out earlier than normal today, heading into town before meeting with Augusto to discuss a trip to the realm with me. I want to pick up the little mementos I’ve managed to save over the year. Things that were my mothers, or my time with her.

“Coming.” I’m already coming around the corner, I’m my hand a glass of iced tea, which Isotta let me know he enjoys. I made it, too.

The way he looks at me as I reach him melts me on the spot, my core clenching at nothing but the mimicry of him in that shower a few days ago.

We haven’t done more than share a chaste kiss since then. Here and there a hug that lasts a little too long or a pat on the asscheek, but that’s as far as we’ve gone.

Something I’m both sad and thankful for. Because he listens to me, is aware of my nerves—but then leaves me wanting on the same breath.

Maybe I should tell him I want more?

There’s no doubt in my mind he’s mine, the man my mother told me would come and lay the world at my feet. The proof is in the sparks when we touch, the way his scent both calms and causes my heart to race—ignites my hunger for him.

He’s all those things.

My savior. My weakness. Mine.

“There you are.” He’s smiling, a cheeky grin that displays a dimple while he holds out a box toward me. It’s from a brand I don’t recognize, then again technology evades me, but I won’t deny the giddy squeak I emit when I open it and a beautiful rose gold phone shines back at me. “So that you always have a way to contact me, precious one. No matter where you are.”

I’m still not used to the device—not something allowed by our government—but I only have three numbers in my contacts list which makes it easy to find him and then press green for dial.

It rings twice before I hear his labored breathing on the other end. “Hello, little mate. Miss me?” His playfulness brings a smile to my lips, but then the sound of a cackle interrupts what could’ve been a moment. My silence alerts him; Leonardo shouts to the trainers that he’s leaving the sparring grounds and will be back later, before the wind around his rustles. As if he’s running. “Is everything okay, Anaya?”

“You have visitors.” Voice low. Subdued.

“Who?”

“The Rossi—”

He exhales through the line, relieved. “Babe, just tell Christopher to wait for me in my—”

“There’s no Christopher here, Leonardo. Chiara’s in the living room.”

“The fuck.” My thoughts exactly.

XXX

Leonardo enters the house exactly twenty minutes later, and his expression is nearly murderous. He only stops long enough to kiss me, grab my hand, and pull me with him into the sitting area.

That’s where we find Isotta with a tray of drinks, the cup of tea beside their pops making me feel easier about this. Maybe I’m being petty, but just the sight of this woman makes me want to sit on his lap to prove a point. And as if he’s reading my mind, my mate does just that.

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