"I must protect my kitchen."
"What's with the new apron?" I ask, searching under the kitchen island for a tray. A glass baking pan comes sliding out, hitting the floor. I cringe.
"Move." He bumps me with his knee, so I dramatically fall over. "Don't start with me. What are you searching for?"
"A serving tray." I sit up. "That was assault."
"You assaulted my baking pan first." He picks it up, inspecting it.
"It's fine." I stand, taking it from him. "I'm looking for a serving tray." Marcello nods, going around to the other side of the kitchen island to pull one out.
"Lady Tova designed the pockets on my apron. It's rather convenient."
"Lady Tova." I smile, shaking my head as I take the tray from him. Since Tova married my brother, Chef Marcello told her she was now the lady of the house and could pick out the meals and such to be planned.
"You know I'm on to you." I point toward him. "Making Tova homemade Pop-Tarts and then calling her the lady of the house. You buttered her all up."
"Butter always does the trick." He smirks.
"You're not wrong." I laugh.
Tova's pockets are rather convenient. She's added them to a few of my dresses, and they came in handy. It's a nice spot to hide a small knife, in case you need to stab someone. I can’t let Z find out that I put knives there. Then he might ban me from having pockets next.
I decide Chef Marcello might be right about my cooking. It’s not a skill set I was taught. When I was away at school, we had dining halls. I never had to cook, and the few times I have, when he was sick, it hasn’t gone well. I can accept that cooking isn’t one of my strengths.
I grab a couple of plates and start to fill them with a variety of foods before I grab some oranges and one of Z's protein drink things. Chef Marcello's eyebrows lift when he sees me get the protein drink, knowing those are Z's. Marcello makes them fresh whenever Z is here.
"He had a long night; I thought I'd bring him breakfast," I rush to say, a bit too quickly. Chef makes a motion like he's zipping his lips, and I know my secret is safe. That man has to have a million secrets stored in his mind at this point. "Thankyou." I give him a kiss on the cheek before grabbing my now filled tray to carry back up the stairs, hoping I don't run into anyone else. I'm sure they too would make the same note about Z's drink.
There is no way they'd think I was doing this out of the kindness of my heart. A few years ago? Maybe, but not as of recently. I would be more likely to throw this tray at Z.
When I get to Z’s door, I contemplate knocking but decide against it. I mean, the man was inside me last night, took my virginity; I shouldn’t have to knock to enter his room. Balancing the tray against the door hinge, I turn the knob and enter.
I immediately pause. His computer screens are now off, but the bedside lamp is on. The bed is still a rumpled mess. I put the tray down, checking the bathroom and closet, but he’s not there either.
Where the hell did he go? I hurry back toward my bedroom, thinking he might have gone there if he woke up while I was getting breakfast. When I enter my room, there is no sign of him there. I must have missed him coming or going, but this house is ginormous.
Then I spot a piece of white paper by the door that I didn’t notice when I entered my room. I put the tray down and snatch it off the floor.
“No.” I shake my head, not believing what I’m seeing, but there is no misunderstanding what it says. He’s made it all too clear.
I’m sorry
I crumble the note in my hand, fisting it into a ball.
He’s fucking sorry? Oh, he will be.
Chapter Four
Z
My head is pounding. I wake up from a sweet dream of Cosima to a nightmare of my own making. I sit up in bed, and I swear I can smell her. What the hell did I do yesterday after we’d all gotten home?
Seeing the half-empty bottle of whiskey sitting on top of my dresser lets me know everything that I need to. Fuck me, that wasn’t the only bottle of whiskey; I’m pretty sure I’d chucked one down the hallway after my drunk ass stumbled into my brother’s bedroom last night.
I’m lucky he didn’t shoot me after the shit we’d all gone through. Now that really was a nightmare. Even thinking about the danger Cosima had been in and the part she played, putting herself center stage of it, has me wanting to finish the rest of that bottle. But I won’t, not after how drunk I’d gotten last night and went in search of her only to accidentally go into my brother’s room.
Thank fuck for that because I’m not sure what my drunk ass might have said or done if I’d actually stumbled into Cosima’s room. I wanted to equally fuck the shit out of her and spank her bratty little ass. She thinks everything is a goddamn joke and has no regard for her own safety. I take a deep breath, rememberingthe scene that played out yesterday. How she had put herself in harm's way without a second thought.
