I shake my head. “It physically pains me to have to stir them right now.”
“Thank you for your service,” he says with a grin, and I wonder how he can be so relaxed and easy around me with what happened just now in the bathroom, let alone what happened between us last night.
He rubs his hands together. “I’ll feed Toffee, and then shall I get on with cooking the bacon? I’m starving.”
“The rabble is awakening, so now’s good,” Rocco says.
Max places Toffee’s bowl on the floor for her, and she gobbles it up. He then slices open packets of bacon and sets about frying it up.
The three of us work together. Whenever Max comes near me, electricity sparks inside, and I do my best to push it away.
“Are you still going to do all the activities today for me to film?” I ask.
“Why wouldn’t I?” he replies.
Because you wanted to kiss me last night and I rejected you? Because you laid your cards on the table and I kept mine close to my chest?
I bite my lip. “No reason. Is it okay if I get some footage now?”
“The world needs to see Prince Max cooking bacon,” Rocco agrees.
“Be my guest,” Max replies, and I pull my phone from my back pocket and begin to film him as he turns the sizzling bacon with a pair of tongs. I pan out to show the kitchen, with Rocco cooking the scrambled eggs, then focus on the attentive Toffee on the floor, hoping for scraps,before I zoom back in on Max as he concentrates on his work, his brows pulled together in concentration.
Why does he need to look so darn good all the time? Even when he’s cooking over a hot stove, he looks like he could effortlessly grace the cover of GQ magazine.
He’s not playing fair.
My phone rings in my hand, making me jump, and I glance at the screen to see it’s Mr. Beckman calling. Alarm bells instantly begin to sound in my head, and I press answer, stepping away from the men for some privacy.
“Hi, Mr. Beckman,” I say. “Is everything okay?”
“Valentina, I'm so glad I got you,” he says in a rush. “Your Nona is just fine, but she did have a little accident.”
My heart leaps into my mouth. “An accident?” I repeat, my voice breathy and thin, like it belongs to somebody in another room. “What kind of accident?”
“She had a fall, and luckily, I was there with her. I called an ambulance?—”
“An ambulance!” My shocked voice is so much louder than I expected, ringing around the room, and I clamp a hand over my mouth.
It's too late. Both men are now watching me, and Max has left the stove, concern written across his face.
“An x-ray will tell us more, but she might have broken her ankle. I assure you, she's in good hands, Valentina.”
“Where is she?”
“She's at Villadorata Central. But you?—”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I reply, my mind reeling. My nona is hurt, and I wasn't there for her. Guilt twists my belly. My nona needs me. I have to get to her.
“She’ll understand that you’re working and?—”
I cut him off. “Mr. Beckman, I'll be there as soon as I can. Does she haveher phone with her?”
There's no way I'm not going to Nona. She's my everything. The thought of her being in pain without me there is too much to bear.
“I'm bringing her phone to her this morning.”
“When did this happen?”
