Page 57 of Devour
Time to call Dominic. I need to know what the Italians are up to, and I need to check in with my security team. I don’t realize how much time has passed until there’s a soft knock on the door, followed by a familiar face peeking through the gap.
“There you are,” she says with a smile, opening the door fully and stepping inside. She’s wearing jean shorts and an oversized shirt tucked in at the front.
She has showered and changed out of the floral dress she had on earlier while watering the garden with Griselda. As she walks toward me, her expression shifts into mock seriousness.
“You shouldn’t be working. You should still be in bed.”
I lean back in my chair with a smirk. “If I have to lie in that bed one more day, I might as well grab a brush and sketch the damn room in detail. I swear—I didn’t even know we had a chaise lounge in the corner.” She raises a brow.
“You mean you didn’t know,” she says, running her fingers over the files on my desk until she’s standing just a few feet away. “Not we.”
I spin in my chair to face her and reach for her hand, pulling her gently into my lap in one swift movement. She tries to get off, but I steady her with one hand on her waist, then lift my other hand to her jaw, guiding her face toward mine with my thumb and forefinger.
“What I have is yours,” I say quietly, letting the weight of the words linger in the space between us. “Everything. Including that damn chaise I apparently own.”
A moment passes between us. I watch as she wets her lips and swallows. My eye trails from her face to focus on her mouth, and before I know it, I start to lean in only for her to turn her face away. I smirk. I could easily pull her back in and kiss her, but I let her have the victory. What I don’t do is let her off my lap.
“Why are you being shy? You literally screwed the brains out of me this morning.” I watch as the blush creeps up her neck, blooming beautifully.
“I—what—I mean…” she fumbles for a proper word, then quickly changes the subject.
“I wanted to ask what you’d like for dinner.”
“Anything you make, I’ll eat.”
“I better get started, then.” She tries to get off my lap again, but I keep my hand on her waist, holding her in place.
“I enjoyed this morning.”
“What…?” she asks, her blush deepening.
“I meant the porridge.”
“Oh.”
“You were both delicious.”
“Stop it,” she says, laughing and tapping my shoulder.
But then her smile fades, and something shifts in her expression—sadness, uncertainty. “What is it?” I ask.
“I want to talk to Noah about you tonight. He’s been asking a lot of questions.”
“Are you worried about how he’ll take it?”
She nods.
“Then tell him another day, when he’s ready.”
“No… this is the right time. I can’t keep pushing it off. It’s not fair—to him or to you.”
She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, like she’s gathering her courage. She’s made up her mind.
“Let me know if you need me there.”
“I will.”
I press a soft kiss to her forehead before finally releasing her. As she heads toward the door, I reach for the small note I found earlier beneath the vase on my desk. I know she placed it there.
