“Are you okay?”
“Too much wine,” I say by explanation.
“Ah,” His face softens in understanding, “Well sit down, let me get you some and then something to drink.”
I breathe a sigh of relief as I take a seat at the island counter, rubbing my temples. He places a glass offresh orange juice in front of me alongside two little pills which I take immediately, and then he places a plate of bacon, eggs and French toast on the counter, and I don’t wait a second to devour it.
I amstarving.
He watches with amusement for a while, “Will Mr. Farrow be joining?” He asks.
I shrug, “Maybe, I don’t know.”
“I will be,” His voice sounds from the doorway behind me and I purposely keep my head forward and down, focusing on the eggs on my plate.
The stool scrapes across the floor as he pulls it out, grating against the headache still to abate, sitting right next to me. I see one dark suited leg and one high shined Prada shoe resting on the cross beam of the stool. He’s dressed impeccably, and that scent that is inherently him is stronger now, wrapping around me.
“You should cut down on the cologne,” I tell him, “It’s stifling.”
The lie falls so easily from my tongue that I can’t help but glance at him, seeing a smirk tugging up the corner of his mouth.
“I’ll be going into the city today,” He tells me, thanking Louis for the food he passes over, “Try not to get into any trouble.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I roll my eyes.
I feel his eyes staring into the side of my face but when I don’t give him what he wants he relents, starting his food. We sit in uncomfortable silence, the sound of our forks scraping the only noise betweenus. The tension is enough to even make Louis uncomfortable who finds an excuse to leave the kitchen.
“I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” Malakai places his empty plate next to the sink and I shake my head at him.
“The dishwasher is right there,” I tell him.
“Goodbye, Olivia.”
With him looking elsewhere I let my gaze travel down him. He’s just as beautiful dressed as he is undressed. It’s unfair to make a man like himthatattractive. Dressed beautifully in a black suit and black shirt, the clothes fit him like a glove, showing off those threateningly broad shoulders and the dark fabric contrasts with the neon blue of his eyes.
“I can feel you staring.”
“Goodbye Malakai.” I snap back at him and then all I’m left with is the lingering echo of his chuckle.
Chapter Fifteen
“But what does he do?” I ask Miranda for the fifth time, following her around the huge living room I haven’t even had a minute to admire. There’s a whole wall of books, from floor to ceiling and it even has a ladder – I’ve only seen that shit in movies!
But I’ll check that out later. I need intel.
“Mrs. Farrow, please,” She huffs impatiently, “I have work to do.”
“You’ve fluffed that pillow three times.”
She gives me a withering stare and moves on, “Don’t you have something to do?” She presses.
“Nope, I’m free as a bird.” I tell her. “I just need like a routine or something?”
“Why?”
“I’m his wife,” I say, lying about my motivations, “I should know my husband’s schedule.”
“It didn’t seem like you wanted it this morning when he was bashing down the door.”
