Page 118 of Vicious Games

“So you’re going to starve just because everyone got hammered last night? Yeah, that’s not happening, babe. Am I right, D?” He winks at Darius before giving him a high five.

“What he said,” Darius piles on, letting his stomach do all the decision-making for him.

Seeing as I’m outnumbered, I don’t put up a fight and let Lucky lead the way.

The kitchen is tucked in the back of the house, and it feels just as luxurious as the rest of it. Sunlight pours in through warm yellow curtains, the smell of fresh bread and coffee lingering in the air while plants and herbs decorate every windowsill.

“Ah!Finalmente!” a woman’s voice sings the second we step in. “I was wondering if all this food was going to go to waste.”

Piled high on the grand kitchen island are stacks of golden pancakes, bowls of glistening berries, and platters of flaky pastries, muffins, and scones still warm from the oven. My eyes drink it all in, wide and stunned, just as Darius’s stomach lets out a loud, helpless growl.

“Now, this is what I’m talking about!” Darius hollers, running to grab a plate and filling it as high as he can manage.

I’m about to reprimand him since, again, I don’t want us to look rude, but Lucky’s cook just chuckles at Darius’ excitement.

“Take a seat and leave some room on your plate for bacon and eggs,piccolino.I’m almost done.”

“A far cry from porridge, huh?” Lucky whispers in my ear, placing a tender hand on the small of my back.

“This is definitely different,” I reply softly, still amazed at the abundance of food in this kitchen.

He throws me a loving smile before he coaxes me closer to his cook and says, “Lourdes, you haven’t officially met her, but this is Frankie.”

“Hi,” I greet, feeling shy all of a sudden.

“So this is your Frankie,” she gushes at the stove, her apron dusted with flour while a pan of bacon sizzles behind her. Her eyes twinkle with warmth as she sets down a bowl and wipes her hands on her apron before pulling me into a big hug. “She’sperfetta,” she says to Lucky, pulling away just to cup my face. “You didn’t tell me she had such beautiful eyes.Così belli.”

I’m already blushing profusely under her gaze while Lucky stands beside me, his chestnut eyes filled with tenderness. “Lei lo è.Perfetta,” he says softly, the heat of his hand making me swallow dryly.

“I… um… nice to meet you.” I swallow dryly. “And thank you for all the recipes you gave Lucky to pass on to me. I’ve learned so much because of them.”

“I’m glad. Lucky says you cook even better than me,” Lourdes says with her brows arched, her thick Italian accent smoothing out every word like honey.

“He said what?” I whip around to glare at him.

He holds up both hands and laughs. “I said she might one day. She has the talent for it. All Frankie needs is a good teacher. Maybe even go to culinary school.” My brows pinch together at the remark.

He knows I can’t afford culinary school. He knows that my plans for the future are already set in stone. So why is he telling people otherwise?

“Well, if you ever want to come to the house, I’m more than happy to teach you.”

Come to the house. She means Lucky’s real home.

“Thank you,” I reply on autopilot, unsure whether the cause of the knot that forms in my stomach is Lucky’s statement about my future or the reminder of how different his reality is from mine.

Lucky quickly sees my shift in mood and swiftly retreats his hand from my back again. “Take a seat. I’m just going to pop into the laundry room real quick and be back in a jiff.”

That’s when my eyes land on his duffle bag, mortification coloring my cheeks bright red.

Crap. Those are probably his bed sheets. Kill me now.

I don’t have time to dwell on my embarrassment for too long as Lourdes starts asking me questions about the recipes she sent, especially the ones I enjoyed most. Perhaps it’s the aroma in the room or the easy conversation with her about the tricks of the trade that eases my tension by the time Lucky returns.

“Done!” Darius says from the other side of the kitchen, practically skipping over to us. “Ready for my bacon and eggs now, please.”

“Glad to hear it.” Lourdes laughs while an impatient Darius watches her whisking some eggs into shape from the sidelines.

Lucky tilts his head, indicating for me to follow him, and we settle at the large table by the tall windows, where sunlight spills over yet another vase of freshly cut flowers.

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