Nothing more, nothing less.
13
RAINA
Iwake up wrapped in black silk sheets. My body is soft and spent from the most intense lovemaking session yet. We knew it was the end, and we surrendered ourselves wholly and completely. My mind switched off, and the flesh unraveled. Now I’m alone in the playroom, and I take a look around.
I’m not just alone, I’m lonely.
Blinking back tears, I gather my things—the handful of lingerie I came in wearing last night—then wrap myself in a plush robe and head to my room. I need to get ready for another day in the kitchen; the first day of the rest of my life.
“What the…” I pause in front of my bed. There’s a box on it and a note on top.
My heart quickens as I open the envelope first and find Alex’s words scrawled across the grainy white paper. “Meet us at midnight tonight; wear this,” I read it aloud, then open the box to find the most adorable, fluffy set of jammies I’ve ever seen. They’re oversized, powder pink, and soft to thetouch, so soft I could put them on and spend the rest of my life literally caressing myself. I can’t help but laugh and wonder what it means.
Matty is already in the kitchen when I walk in. He’s chopping chorizo and chives for the omelets, which we’ll roll out in about thirty minutes, according to the clock on the wall. His hands move fast, but he’s nervously biting his lower lip.
“You’re late,” he snaps.
“Five minutes,” I reply. “We’re fine. I’ll get the eggs and the cheese for the?—”
“Already done,” Matty says and nods back at a large stainless-steel bowl and a plastic box filled with shredded red cheddar. The smoky fragrance of the maple-aged cheese reaches my nostrils and makes my mouth water a little.
“The fruits then. We agreed on the carpaccio, right?” I ask Matty.
“Yes, kiwi, watermelon, and dragon fruit, with the berry and lime reduction.”
“Excellent,” I say, then get cracking on the thin slices of fruits for this endeavor. It’s one of my favorite twists on the classical fruit salad for breakfast, and I’ve found that the kiwi and the watermelon, in particular, pair extraordinarily well with an egg breakfast. “And the bacon?”
Matty curses under his breath. “Crap—it’s still smoking.”
“Relax, we’re good. We’ll be on time.”
“It affects our performance!”
I take a deep breath and pause to look at Matty. “What is going on with you?”
“Nothing.”
Yet he’s chopping that sausage like he wants to kill it, to obliterate it and wipe it from existence. Finally, a few moments pass, and Matty realizes what he’s doing. “Double crap. I ruined it. It’s chopped all wrong.”
Without hesitation, I walk over to his side of the counter and gently pull him away from the worktop, placing my hands on his shoulders. He’s close to hyperventilating now, his chest rising and dropping too fast.
“Matty, look at me,” I tell him. “Deep breath, man. Come on.”
“No, I’m fine.”
“You’re about to pass out,” I raise my voice, and he stills, his eyes wide as he looks at me. “Come on, breathe with me. Three seconds in, four seconds hold, five seconds out.”
I breathe with him in the same rhythm. Again, then again, until I feel him relaxing under my grip. “That’s right,” I say. “Much better, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Thanks. Yeah,” he mutters. “I’m sorry. I’ll toss the chopped chorizo?—”
“Don’t worry about it; set it aside for our breakfast.”
Matty gives me a surprised look. “The catering company handles our meals. We already have breakfast waiting.”
“Screw that. We’re in our kitchen, Matty. I think we deserve the privilege of cooking our breakfast here for once,” I say, smiling broadly. “Besides, I’d kill for an omelet with Spanish sausage and Irish cheddar right about now, wouldn’t you?”
