Page 44 of The Don's Hidden Heir

“Yes!” He jumps, celebrating his victory.

Dominic looks at his son with obvious amusement. “He’s a little genius, isn’t he?”

“Uh-uh. He’s a manipulative little guy, just like you. I guess genes don’t lie.” I brush past Dominic. “Where’s your kitchen?”

“Walk straight ahead and turn to your right.”

The maids freeze when we step into the kitchen and the chief chef—a middle-aged man—flashes a smile at Dominic and greets him, then he turns his gaze in my direction. “You must be Ms. Marconi.”

“I am.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Mark Spencer,” he says. “Tell me what you want to eat and whenever. It’s my job to make sure your tastebuds are well taken care of.”

I smile at him. He’s such a nice man. “Thank you.”

I cross my hands and begin to look around. Dominic’s kitchen is what my dream would be if I were a chef. It’s big enough to become an apartment on its own. There’re the latest kitchen appliances tucked away at every corner. The granite countertops are an immaculate white and so are the custom-made cabinets. They glitter from the overhead light.

Dominic’s eyes trace my face. “Do you like the kitchen?”

“It’s amazing. You’re still a perfectionist.”

“Always was. Always will be,” he says cockily. I hate cocky men, but I have to bite back a smile whenever Dominic is being full of himself. His arrogance makes him even more attractive. “What would you like to eat?”

“Well…” I turn to the chef. “What do you have?”

“Everything,” he answers.

I chuckle. “Everything.”

He nods his head.

“How about Chinese food?” I tease. It’s not like he’s running a restaurant, how can he have everything?

“It’ll take a moment longer to prepare. Would you like some snacks while you wait?”

“No,” I mutter defensively. He didn’t get my sarcasm. “I was joking. We’ll have French toast, with sausages and baked beans. I’ll have a cup of coffee and Lucas will have a cup of hot chocolate.”

The chef smiles. “Breakfast will be ready in twenty-minutes. Where would you like to be served?”

“We’ll eat at the dining table.”

I don’t realize I’ve been holding my breath until Dominic and I leave the kitchen. I have a cook and cleaner over three times every week. They’re mostly gone before I’m back from work, so it’s really odd having someone do everything. It’s strange having people serve me.

The closest I have come to this is at work, but it’s work, so it’s different.

Dominic narrows his eyes on me. “Are you okay?”

I curl my hand into a fist and hit my chest. “I’m fine. Just a little anxious. All of this is new to me.”

He grabs my wrist before I can hit my chest again and covers my fist with his hand. “Hey,” he says in a voice that’s barely a whisper, “if it makes you comfortable, I can order them to stay out of sight. Even better, I can have all of them leave if you want. Just say the word and I’ll do just that.”

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll adjust to having people around me. I’m the outsider here, I shouldn’t make them walk on egg shells around me.”

Dominic cups my cheeks and I flush from his touch. “I brought you here, Elena. This is your home. You’re not an outsider. You’re the mother of my son.”

We look into each other’s eyes for a moment and I burn where his hands are on my cheeks. My stomach flips. I gasp and move away when all I want to do is lean into his touch. “Can we hold off the rest of the tour for today? I need to settle in and freshen up before breakfast, which should actually be lunch!”

There’s an awkward silence for a moment and I wonder if he can hear how fast my heart is pounding. I’m a total idiot around him.

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