Page 127 of LA King

Her nose twitches, and I’m at risk of having her swat me with a soup spoon if I’m not careful. “I’m sure. Now go. Out of my kitchen,” she says, waving her hand in my direction.

I don’t know what comes over me, but perhaps it’s my happiness at finally feeling like I have something to do in this city, or perhaps Kristen’s earlier embrace melted the wall of ice I’ve built around myself these past few weeks, but I run over to Magda and give her a huge hug.

She remains as stiff as a board, and I’m worried I’ve crossed a line. Magda and I have become closer as we’ve gotten to know each other, which is good because she’s the only person I really speak to. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.

But right as I’m about to pull away, she places her hand on my back and pats me gently. “Dulce niña.”

I don’t know what that means, but it sounds lovely, and when I look at her face, she’s smiling.

Happiness, true happiness, floods my chest. I might just grow to like my life in LA after all.

Chapter

Ten

Alejandro

Iarrive home in time for dinner and make my way to the dining room. Hopefully I won’t regret my decision to eat dinner with my new wife or have even more regret for allowing her to choose the meal. What the hell came over me earlier when I called Magda and proclaimed I’d be home for dinner? Maybe it’s the same reason that I can’t seem to stop myself from coming home a few nights every week and sleeping in our bed—just so I can be a little closer to Alana.

But watching her sleep is one thing. Eating dinner together, entirely another. I imagine there’ll be some kind of pretentious dish sitting on my plate when I get into the room. Or worse, something vegan. I have no idea if my wife only eats tofu and fake cheese, or whether she survives on wine and antidepressants, like her mother is purported to—although Alana’s general appearance would rule out the latter. But her being a vegan is possible. It seems like a newly fashionable lifestyle choice. Not that I have anything against vegans, but I’m a carnivore, and a meal isn’t a meal, in my opinion, unless it contains meat.

Alana’s already seated at the dining room table. She looks different today. Her cheeks are glowing, and there’s a look on her face I haven’t seen before. It looks a lot like contentment, and it has nothing to do with me, because she hasn’t noticed me yet. She’s just sitting there, smiling to herself.

Her lunch must have gone well. Maybe she indulged in too many afternoon cocktails.

It sure as fuck better not be about anything else. The fact that she chose Hugo to be her bodyguard out of the five men I sent her didn’t escape my attention. I wonder now if I made a mistake picking him as one of my choices, but he is undeniably one of my best soldiers, and he would take a bullet for her or me without question.

I trust him with my most prized possession.

Her.

“Buenas noches, princesa,” I say, taking a seat.

She finally looks up at me, smile still firmly in place. “Good evening,”

“Did you have a good day?”

“Yes.” She nods eagerly. “Yes, I did.”

Before I can ask about it further, Magda enters the room carrying dinner. She places my plate in front of me, and I’m sure I must have walked into the wrong house. A glance at Alana’s plate reveals she has the same.

The scent of bacon and cheese and beef fills my nose and my stomach growls.

“Can I get you anything else?” Magda asks.

I keep my eyes fixed on my wife. “I have everything I need right here.”

Alana licks her lips, and I want to lick them too. And then I would lick a path from there to every other part of her I’d like to taste. “No thank you, Magda. This looks delicious.”

Magda nods and leaves us alone.

“Coca-Cola?” Alana holds up the glass decanter beside her that’s filled with dark brown liquid.

I suppress a smile. “You decanted the soda?”

She shrugs. “Seemed classier somehow.”

I hold out my glass for her to fill, and she obliges. “So this is your favorite meal? Cheeseburger and fries?”