Page 21 of For the Love of the Gods

I took the plates and loaded two omelets before setting up another in the pan. Dominic poured the coffee into two cups and handed a mug to me.

“Thank you,” I said, wrapping a hand around the warm ceramic. Two, low-spoken words, were all that I could push out. Him helping me in the kitchen was too much. People didn’t do things for me. Not without a responsibility to.

Dominic stepped around to the other side of the counter, taking his coffee and cologne with him, and I felt like I could think again.

Marcus was still telling his story as I finished up the last three omelets. He was a great storyteller, working in enough details and little quips to keep it engaging and bright. One of those quips earned a genuine laugh from me as I set the final plates down in front of Dominic and Raiden.

Marcus kept going, and I laughed a little louder. I caught Dominic’s shoulders tensing from the corner of my eye. Maybe he didn’t like eggs?

That thought stayed as I watched in trepidation as he lifted his fork and cut off a piece. He brought the eggs to his mouth and chewed them, slowly. I tensed. He didn’t like them.

I was about to offer him something else when he brought his fork back down to the plate and chopped off a piece big enough to choke on and hauled it back up to his mouth.

He liked it. I was pretty sure. He was taking big bites but chewing them slowly, like he had to think about every movement.

I tucked into my own food standing at the counter. Everyone was silent for a bit, eating their breakfast. Raiden popped up out of his chair and rounded the marble, probably in search of seconds. I was about to direct him to the sixth omelet I’d made on the pan when he stopped and peaked inside my mug.

“Did you not get any sleep last night?” He asked, dark brows drawn slightly together.

“I slept fine.” I silently begged him not to push it.

He did anyway. “Then why are you drinking coffee?”

“I…um wanted some.” It was a weak ass excuse, but my brain wasn’t working at full capacity. I grabbed the mug, resigned to drink it, but Dominic got up and pulled the coffee out of my hand before I could take a sip.

“Tea?” It was one, guttural word that I almost confused for a grunt.

I nodded.

“How?”

“Black. Milk and some honey.”

He turned towards the kettle, and I stepped away from the stove. Dominic looked pissed. And over a stupid cup of coffee. His back muscles were bunched under his shirt, the tension never leaving as he made my tea. Or as he slid the mug in front of me and sat down with a scowl painting his face.

The scowl deepened with every consecutive word of conversation. And when Raiden looked at me and said, “You remember Dorian, right?” I heard the distinct snap of ceramic breaking.

Dominic had broken the handle off his mug. Why Raiden asking me about his brother was the final straw, I was about to find out.

“Everybody out,” I snapped, pining Dominic with a deadly stare to make sure he knew to stay right where he was. When the three guards scurried out of the room like dismissed schoolchildren, I asked, “What the fuck is your problem?”

Gone was the sharp-witted man from last night. Dominic was back to being the asshole I knew him to be.

“Where is Mary?” His expression contorted like the question tasted vile on his tongue.

“And who would Mary be?”

“My chef.”

Oh. That had an explanation, but I wasn’t going to tell him the full truth. “She has been redirected.”

Dominic leaned back in his chair, his expression darkening as he folded his hands across his chest. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“She will stay on staff to cook for the rest of your household, and you if you choose,” I explained, trying to keep my tone nonchalant. “I’ll continue to cook for myself and whoever would like to eat my food.”

He didn’t like that excuse. “You can’t just come in here and dictate people’s jobs.”

“She won’t be bothered. I wasn’t here before, and she won’t notice me now.” She didn’twantto have to acknowledge me.

---