But making her recipe tonight for Damon feels right. It feels like I’m honoring Julianna’s memory by making one of her most coveted recipes.
After setting the timer on the oven, I hurry to hop into the shower and get ready. Damon wanted to take me out to dinner tonight, but I insisted that I make us a meal at my place instead. It took some convincing, but he finally relented.
I want to tell him he doesn’t need to spend so much money on me, but I don’t know how to voice that opinion.
While I’m getting dressed, I glance around my opulent bedroom. He probably thinks a girl like me is used to the finer things in life. If he only knew I spent most of my childhood and adult life on the bottom bunk in crowded dorm rooms with only a few possessions to my name.
My father spared no expense when it came to my arrival back to New York City, but I’m not used to this type of life, by any means.
Checking my reflection in the mirror, I adjust my sweater, which exposes my left shoulder, and do a little twirl to make sure my skinny jeans look good. I’m dressed down compared to my normal date night attire with Damon, but I want to be comfortable since we’re staying in tonight.
I forgo any jewelry as well, instead leaving my locket tucked away safely in a small, velvet box on my dresser.
A knock at my front door has me hurrying to answer it. Damon is standing on the other side in a black button-up and dark jeans.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he tells me before slipping a kiss to my cheek. “Something smells delicious.”
A big smile is on my face as I step aside to let him in before I close the door. “It’s lasagna. I hope you like it.”
“I’m sure I’ll love it,” he tells me.
The timer on the oven goes off, and I pull out the dish of bubbling lasagna. I hope it tastes as good as it looks.
“What can I do to help?” Damon asks.
“If you want to pour the wine, I’ll get the food,” I tell him.
“Sure.”
I dish out generous portions and give the salad a final toss to make sure it’s well coated with my homemade Italian dressing before scooping that onto the plates as well. Then I carry them to the table where Damon is already seated.
Digging in, I put the first bite of lasagna in my mouth and close my eyes. It takes me back to my childhood when Julianna Rossi would invite me over for dinner. While mine could never be an exact replica, it’s pretty damn close, and I’m glad I could do her recipe justice.
“I hope you like it,” I tell Damon. “It’s an old family recipe. Well, not my own family, per se,” I say, correcting myself. “The family who lived next to door to me when I was a child.”
The clattering of Damon’s fork against his plate has my eyes snapping up to meet his. I see a myriad of emotions running through him, but the look of disgust on his face as he glares down at the lasagna has me clenching my silverware in my hand. I watch his throat flex as he takes a hard swallow.
“Do you…not like it?” I ask hesitantly, feeling my spirits crashing and burning on the ground around me.
“No,” he says quickly, picking his fork back up. “I like it.” I watch as he takes another bite, closing his eyes as if to savor it. “It tastes just like my mom used to make,” he comments after he chews.
I know he doesn’t like to talk about his family, so it makes sense he got upset for a moment. Taking a long sip of my wine, I stare over my glass at Damon. He looks hot and brooding, like always. There’s something so mysterious about him, like he’s guarding a lot of secrets.
We eat the rest of our dinner in companionable silence. And when we’re finished, I tell him, “I made dessert,” while standing to clear the dishes off the table. When I reach for Damon’s plate, however, he grabs my wrist, halting me.
His thick fingers caress my skin under the sleeve of my sweater. And then his green eyes meet mine. “I don’t want dessert,” he says in a rough voice.
“Whatdoyou want?” I ask him breathlessly, taken aback by the feral look in his eyes.
“You, Victoria. I want you.”
CHAPTER 14
DAMON
ANGER COURSES THROUGH my veins.
How dare she use my mother’s recipe.
