Page 97 of Loving the Legend
I look away. “Yeah.”
“Baby, we’ve got to get you to thera–”
I huff out a breath. “Can we not fight about this today? Today’s been amazing…” My birthday hasn’t been remotely good in years.
His chest caves as he releases a heavy sigh. “Fine. I’ll drop it. Just for today. C’mon,” he says, clasping my hand and leading the way.
“Why are there so many?” I ask, peering around the kitchen equipped with stainless steel everything, from the island to the walls of refrigerators, dishwashers, and Wolf ovens.
“V can accommodate a party guest list of a few hundred. Grab a drink. I had a fridge stocked earlier today.”
“So this is how the rich do it.” I hop up on the bare island and spread my legs. “You’re taking me here?”
His gaze trails down my body. “Mmm. I want to feed you first.” He reaches into his shorts to adjust his erection, then moves to the sink to wash his hands.
“We’re cooking?”
“I had the restaurant brought to us,” he says, flicking the off switch on a stainless-steel device that looks like a cross between a microwave and a toaster oven and pulling out a tray of food.
I slide off the island and peel back the cover.
“Whoa! Is that miso cod?”
He hums, embracing me from behind.
“And yellowtail collar? Wait a minute, is this from—”
“Yep,” he says.
“How?” I ask, staring at him wide-eyed. I mentioned a few weeks ago that I’m dying to dine at an upscale and renowned Japanese-Peruvian restaurant here in Miami. The restaurant has a strict no-takeout policy. It’s part of their ethos—something about the menu being a tasting experience enjoyed in-house blah blah. It’s fucking pretentious, but the food’s so damn delicious that everyone deals with it. The restaurant attracts celebrities, so paparazzi camp out in front. Sid’s been several times, but I haven’t since we generally avoid being seen together in public. I sneak in and out whenever I’m in Miami to see him.
He smirks. “Seriously?”
I shake my head. He’s cocky about this but not owning a yacht.
I hop back up on the island. “God, you’re a dream. How will I ever be able to date after you?”
He glares at me. “You know something I don’t? Why are you thinking about dating after me?” Standing between my legs, he begins gathering the perfect bite.
“Holy fuck!” My eyes roll closed the second the buttery, salty, sweet flavors hit my palette.
“Yeah?” he asks.
I nod. “Oh, yeah.”
I jump down and move to the sink to wash my hands. He holds the plate away from me when I return with a fork.
“Answer me,” he demands.
My stomach grumbles in protest. “I’m not. I’m in love with you. It’s just you’ve set the bar high—like skyscraper high.”
He returns the plate to the island. “You know one of the things I love aboutThe Three Musketeers?”
I dig into the food. “The adventure and camaraderie?”
“The honor duels,” he answers before accepting my bite.
“That’s rando—oh, you’d duel a guy for me?”
