And I’m going to spoil the fuck out of her.
She’s going to hate it.
I can’t wait.
CHAPTER 7
DOVE
My hands are a mess, and I can’t help but giggle at how strange it feels to have them covered in butter, garlic, and herbs. But that’s what happens when making the chicken I have planned for tonight’s dinner. I use my wrist to turn the facet on in the kitchen and wash my hands while eyeing the chicken that is now ready to go in the oven.
I don’t know if he’s always been this way, but Angelo is very predictable when it comes to his schedule. While he’s spent a lot of time with me in his penthouse home, there have been times when he’s had to go into his office. I have no idea where it is or what it looks like, but I would bet money that it’s posh as fuck and there is always a flurry of activity.
I can only imagine, seeing as I’ve never worked in an office environment. When I was younger, I waited tables, but those jobs never lasted long. It’s not like I did anything wrong, but trouble has a way of finding me no matter how hard I try to avoid it.
Having Angelo Amato seeing me, abducting me only to move me into his place, and telling me things to make me wonder if I entered some fairy tale parallel universe is proof of that. If thesituation I find myself in isn’t trouble, I don’t know what is.
Over the last few days, Angelo has been making sure I have everything I need and have felt comfortable settling into his place. I’ll be honest, it doesn’t quite feel like it’smyplace. Not yet.
I’m not entirely sure if it’ll ever feel that way.
How could it when everything in the penthouse is sleek, modern, and minimalistic? It’s not really my style. Even though I’ve never had much, I usually go for color and cozy over sterile and straight lines. Angelo’s home is the kind of place where you step inside and know a fancy designer decorated it.
If they were trying to make this place feel like a home, they failed. If they were trying to make it worthy of a magazine spread, then they succeeded. I’ve been scared of breaking something by breathing nearby.
That doesn’t mean that Angelo hasn’t been trying to help me feel comfortable here. He has. While I get the chicken in the oven, I can’t help but think about how cute he looked when my entire apartment, except for the furniture, found its way to his living room in perfectly packed boxes.
I say they just showed up there because I never heard or saw a soul. When Angelo carried me to the shower, my stuff wasn’t there. The next time I walked into the living room, showered but not dressed properly for the day, it was all there.
And in the middle of it all was Angelo.
He turned toward me and smiled. It was a boyish smile which had my heart melting for him. I could feel it happen—my insides just turning to mush.
I wanted to slap myself. Falling into some fantasy would not end well.
The problem is that Angelo has been steady. He’s not even questioning himself and what he’s gotten into with me. The man is determined.
When he was standing in the middle of my life, I realized what a small one I had been living. It’s been hard and I’ve done the best I could. I’m not denying that, but that doesn’t mean I was particularly proud of it. He looked so big in relation to my belongings.
Then I thought about what I had seen in his space. It wasn’t exactly full of life. Quite the opposite. It was devoid of it.
I started to really look at the small things I had acquired. While I couldn’t do it often, I had been able to visit places fairly close by. Whenever I had the chance to visit a new place, I picked up a reminder. They were somewhere in the boxes.
Last year I decided to teach myself how to make a snuggly blanket. It felt like something your grandmother might teach you. Considering I’d never had one, I decided I might as well teach myself.
The blanket I crocheted was somewhere in the boxes.
Angelo moved closer to me, his steps soft and curious instead of commanding. His large hands cupped my cheeks and raised my face until I was looking at him. His hazel eyes were brimming with questions.
“I don’t have much,” I blurted out.
“You have what you have.” He said it so simply and suddenly I wasn’t as worried about my lack of things.
Since then, I’ve unpacked. Begrudgingly.
Now it’s Christmas Eve. For the last few days, Angelo has quietly infused Christmas into the penthouse. A tree appeared while I was unpacking. Begrudgingly.
I swear a new garland has been magically appearing here or there about every hour when Angelo has been around. Nothing appears when he’s out. It makes it pretty obvious who is playing Santa.
