“You’ll cook for me?”
“Anytime.”
He grins up at me, those dimples burrowing deep in his cheeks, and something in my chest shatters, moving so suddenly, I find it hard to breathe.
Fuck, he’s beautiful.
How can he look even more beautiful right now?
It’s his smile, I realize. It’s genuine and sedated, lighting up his face.
“I assume you don’t cook?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “We have cooks.”
“Kane has them, too.”
“Yeah, but he enjoys making food, so he found a way to learn.” He shrugs. “I never learned, I guess. Mom and Dad never cooked either, so no influence there.”
“Mom tries, but she’s okay-ish.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. She’s secretly glad I’m the one who cooks now.”
He laughs, and once again, I’m held hostage by the way his face shines brighter and his eyes look so alive.
For just a moment, he looks so boyish and carefree—a stark difference from earlier.
“You’re just talking shit about your mom since she’s not here.” He playfully kicks my foot that’s resting on top of his with his free one.
“She’d gladly back me up if she were here.”
“Uh-huh.” He takes another bite, then pauses. “How about your dad?”
“What about him?”
“You know, does he come by often?” He stares up at me with a sense of anticipation. “Cook, maybe?”
“Dad? Cook? I can’t even imagine him outside of his suit, let alone in a kitchen.”
“Yeah, my dad, too. He’s too business-oriented to do something so normal. I have a theory that I told Hayes, but he wasn’t impressed.”
“Who’s Hayes?”
“My minion. Dad’s secretary and house manager of sorts. He’s been cleaning up after my messes his entire life, kind of grown white hair because of it, oops. Anyway, I told Hayes that when Dad dies, they’ll find a robot inside him.”
He smiles, but it’s forced.
I pull my leg back, then lean forward and rest my chin on my steepled fingers. “Will he really kill you if he finds out you’re with a guy?”
Preston stares at the nearly empty plate, his gaze lost, and I think he’ll turn into the zombie from the bathroom, but he just whispers, “Maybe. It’s not really up to him. If the others vote for my death, they’ll find a way to kill me one way or another, but you know…death isn’t what scares me.”
“What does?”
“Dad pulling the trigger.” His lips tremble before he purses them again. “I’d rather kill myself than watch him do it. I’ve disappointed him enough as it is.”
“Disappointed him how?”
