Page 17 of Royal Fling
Dark eyes, dark skin, pink lips.
I couldn’t cast his image out of my head since last night. I’d been attracted to men since I could remember, but I’d never felt so… drawn to someone.
I had no idea what it was about him. Whether it was his presence, his kindness to Fisayo, or his looks, I couldn’t get enough of it.
And the story from last night. Everything I learned about Fisayo.
Why had she never shared her story with me? Why didn’t she tell anyone about her long-lost son? If I’d known, I would have helped her find him sooner.
I looked out at London, the clouds graying the sky and making everything look darker, making it feel later than it actually was.
Only in the north would a sky be so cloudy and moody in the middle of summer.
That was the one thing I missed from Elysia, other than my family. The hot Mediterranean sun.
I took a sip of my scotch, swirled the liquid in my mouth, letting the alcohol sting my tongue, and walked back inside the penthouse, closing the balcony door behind me.
Immediately, the clash and drum of metals assaulted my ears, and I found my way to the kitchen and paused.
I’d never seen this place so untidy. It was kept clean and orderly at all times. Not only because I had the well-trained staff, but also because Fisayo hated a mess, and she made sure every surface was spotless. The kitchen was her escape when I was busy with work. It was her version of church.
That was why it was a shock to the system that it was so disorderly now. Cupboards were left open, arrays of pots and pans were cluttering the stove and the surrounding area, and the sink looked like a mountain of china.
In the middle of it all was Fisayo with a dirty apron, frizzed hair, and panic across her face.
“Nonny, what is all this?” I asked and came up to her, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“Oh. Auggie. I’m sorry. I’ll clean everything up,” she said, barely registering my presence.
“Are you okay?”
I knew she wasn’t. I could tell. Even anyone whodidn’tknow her could tell.
“Sure. I’m fine,” she replied.
She grabbed a wooden spoon and stirred something in a pot a little bit faster than usual. It smelled positively spicy, and I couldn’t wait to give whatever it was a try.
“You don’t look fine,” I said.
“I just have a lot to do,” she said.
I nodded, trying to be understanding without agitating her more.
“Why don’t you ask Leah and Tina for help?”
She shook her head manically while sorting out a tray in the oven.
“I can’t. I can’t. I’ve got to… make everything. They’re not paid to cook for my… I’m fine.”
When she closed the oven and turned away from me to start chopping something, I stepped up to her, held her wrists, and gave her a hug.
“It’s okay to be nervous,” I said.
She finally gave way and hugged me back, and I felt her inhale and exhale deeply trying to calm herself. “You don’t have to do everything yourself. Let me help.”
“Thank you,” she said instead of antagonizing me.
It wouldn’t be the first or the last time I’d helped out in the kitchen, and I knew pretty much what needed to be done.
