Page 11 of Doubts & Fears

“My fault? How do you figure that?”

“My life was perfectly fine until you came waltzing into the café.”

She stormed out of the room. Gerald didn’t know what to say but followed her.

Chapter 4

Aleksandr

A Small Reprieve

Two hours later, I found Gerald standing outside the kitchen. He looked over and grinned, pointing to the open door. I stood in the doorway as she spoke to Mrs. Patterson, our chef.

On the island were several types of cookies. Mrs. Patterson was sitting down at the table, drinking some tea. Kinsley was giving cookie-baking tips in the cutest way.

“Okay, so my top cookie tips are to always have the correct butter consistency—cookies depend on it. Plan ahead, because room temperature means exactly that. Oh, and most importantly, learn how to measure and weigh your ingredients. A gram or ounce is always a gram or an ounce, but a cup isn’t always a cup.”

Kinsley’s face was relaxed. She was clearly in her element and looked every bit like the innocent young girl she was.

“Next is probably the most important. Keep your oven door closed. Use the light instead. Chill your cookie dough. And this one my mother taught me. To keep your leftover cookies extra soft, store them with a half slice of bread.” She went to grab the bread, saw me, and froze.

“Don’t stop on my account.” I sauntered over and grabbed a cookie.

“Those aren’t for you.” She slapped my hand away when I went to grab another one. They were good—delicious. Peanut butter chocolate chip.

“Who are they for? Ivan?” I was amused by her frown.

“Why? Does he like cookies?” She smirked, and I licked my lips, not answering. She pushed her hair back from her face. “Anyway, nosey, these are for Mrs. Patterson’s potluck. Now get out unless you know how to use the oven. Ivan and Nik had no idea how to turn one on, and something tells me you’re the same.” She looked at Mrs. Patterson, who couldn’t help but laugh. “Does he know how to use one?”

“He does not, Ms. Taylor,” Mrs. Patterson said as the tiny terror glared my way. God, she was so cute.

“You can’t hide in here forever, you know.” I leaned against the counter.

“You’re the one who banished me here. I quite like it. It’s warm, the company is great, and there isn’t a member of the Death Squad in sight, or at least there wasn’t until you got here.”

“Death Squad?” I asked, amused.

“Yes. I mean, you all have some kind of pact, the skull in your tattoos: the Reaper, the Crow, the Blade. Even your friend in London has one, he said. Those are all symbols of death, are they not? So, therefore, Death Squad fits. I hear you kill people. Tell me, is that true?”

“I think you’ve taken up enough of Mrs. Patterson’s time. After all, she still has to make dinner.” I ignored her question.

“I’m not hungry. Or did you forget that, old man? Mrs. Patterson, I think he needs his hearing checked.”

“You haven’t eaten anything?” I growled. She’d slept for over thirty-two hours straight. Nik would be livid if he knew.

“Oh, dear, are you hungry? Let me make you something.” Mrs. Patterson got up and started walking toward the refrigerator.

“I’m perfectly fine,” she said with a warm smile. “May I please be excused from the kitchen? I’m suddenly exhausted.”

“You’re free to roam the house. You don’t need my permission.”

“Don’t I?” she sneered.

“Only for certain things, but since you’re in no hurry to eat, we can get some of those questions you didn’t answer put to rest. Let’s go. Time to face the music.” With her demeanor and fight back in play, there was no time like the present to get to the bottom of things with her.

“And if I say no?” She looked at me with the defiance of a two-year-old toddler.

“That’s enough from you, little lady. Get your ass in the drawing room, now.” Ivan had snuck in, and she jumped at his sudden appearance. For a man of his size, he was stealthy.

---