Page 24 of Take Me Under

“What is this?”

“Food. You haven’t eaten in two days.” I shifted my eyes to meet his ever-observant stare. Heat rose into my cheeks as I recalled his gaze on my body. He spoke so casually—as if he hadn’t just seen me stark naked in his bathroom.

It was awkward.

Once again, I asked myself why I’d allowed him to stare for so long.

I was about to insist that I wasn’t hungry and should head out, but my traitorous stomach growled again. Reluctantly, I decided to at least have a fast meal before attempting to find a hotel room.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do this, but I appreciate it all the same. I’ll eat quick, call my mother, and then—” I paused, noticing that he wasn’t making a plate for himself. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

“I don’t like to eat before bed.”

“Oh, I…” I frowned, once again aware of the time. My body clock was so screwed up. “I’m sorry to keep you up so late.”

“Don’t apologize. Although this is a little later than usual, it’s not far from the norm. Rarely do I fall asleep before one in the morning.”

“Oh?”

“I keep late hours and don’t typically get up until eight or nine. It all depends on the day,” he explained. “Weekdays, I just try to be up before the market opens.”

Market?

I frowned and thought back to what Madeleine had told meabout Anton the night of the gala. He must be referring to the stock market. Madeleine had said he’d made his money on cryptocurrency and was a millionaire many times over.

“I don’t know much about stocks or crypto,” I admitted. “I just assumed people involved in that line of work started their days early.”

Anton raised an eyebrow. “So, you know who I am then?”

I shrugged, wondering if I should be embarrassed that I hadn’t known until Madeleine told me.

“My dress designer, Madeleine, filled me in after you left the gala.”

“I see.” He pressed his lips together in a tight line, clearly displeased about something. “What else did she say?”

“Not much. She just said that you’d made your way with cryptocurrency. Is that what’s keeping you up late tonight? Worried about the current value of Bitcoin?” I teased, attempting to ease the sudden tension.

He didn’t answer me. Instead, he glanced down at my plate and said, “You should eat before it gets cold.”

He took a seat on one of the stools further down the island. His careful gaze was intimidating, so I quickly looked away and began to eat the eggs.

“I haven’t had bacon and eggs in years,” I told him.

He raised a curious brow. “Do you not like them?”

“Oh, no. I do, very much. It’s just very American. Bacon and eggs aren’t really a thing in Italy. Back home, a typical breakfast is a hard roll with Nutella or sweet biscuits. Sometimes we’ll add toast with thin slices of meat, like prosciutto, salami, or mortadella.”

He didn’t say anything but continued to watch me curiously. Every once in a while, he’d take a small sip from the glass that sat in front of him. It contained an amber liquid that I assumed was some kind of whiskey or scotch. He swirled it, causing the large ball of ice to clink against the sides of the glass beforeraising it to his lips. The action caused his T-shirt sleeve to shift just enough for me to catch a glimpse of dark ink curling over his bicep. The sharp lines disappeared under his shirt, teasing at a story I suddenly wanted to know more about.

My pulse quickened as I imagined tracing the design with my fingertips and wondered what other secrets might be under his shirt.

“Do you like to cook?” I asked between bites, needing a distraction from the inappropriate thoughts in my head.

“Not particularly.”

His response was cool, and he didn’t seem to be in a talkative mood. Still, I was intrigued by the stranger whose bed I’d slept in, so I pressed on.

“Have you thought about hiring a chef or a housekeeper?”

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