Chapter 10
After guzzling down my second cup of coffee, Ru, my recently acquired Rottweiler, follows me to the kitchen where I attempt to make breakfast. To be honest, I gave up on cooking a long time ago and can’t remember the last time I bought adequate groceries.
With the milk and eggs spoiled and no fresh meats available, the only things remotely edible from the fridge, at least as breakfast is concerned, is a white onion, some sliced turkey, and half a bag of shredded cheese.
Great. I pull the items out and place them on the small wooden prep table in the middle of the U-shaped kitchen, and then continue my search in the pantry.
As I do, I stifle a yawn. Last night was long for us all.
Despite skipping my morning workout and sleeping in, I’m exhausted.
Perhaps because I didn’t sleep, at least not a lot.
Every time I dosed off, images of Darcy played behind my closed eyelids.
I woke worried for her and worried that she might regret her decision to accompany me and try to leave without me knowing.
Not that she would’ve succeeded. While the main house is over one-hundred-years-old and relies more on manpower than technology to defend it, my home—hidden amongst the trees on the Amato estate—is newer and equipped with the very best security system courtesy of our ally Cassio Castellani.
Hidden cameras, motion sensors and the like—including the sensors and cameras set up around the estate— send updates to my phone and alert me to any suspicious movement.
Additionally, there’s an anti-fire sprinkler system installed outside.
The windows are all made of bullet-proof glass.
And all the exterior doors have additional hidden locks that go into effect at midnight or when the system is armed.
They make the doors unopenable without a registered thumbprint.
Similarly, the main gates are impenetrable without approved entry, which requires both a code and facial recognition.
Still, my mind could not rest until I was sure she was okay, that they both were. What happened last night… Well, it has a way of leaving a mark, like the one I’ve yet to make sense of on Darcy’s back.
Inhaling deeply, I rub the worry from my forehead and return my attention to the sparse offerings of the pantry.
I say sparse, not because the space isn’t filled to the brim, but because most of it is either expired or I have no idea what to do with it.
Glancing at the items on the prep table, I opt for the bag of Russet potatoes and grab some of the still-good tortillas.
Breakfast burritos it is. That is, if I can remember where I threw the cast-iron skillet after my last failed culinary attempt.
As I finish dicing the onions and chopping the potatoes into small cubes, Ru jumps from her relaxed position at my feet and turns toward the staircase.
I follow her line of sight, and within moments, Darcy and Delilah appear.
Ru lets out one bark of excitement and rushes from the kitchen, past the farmhouse-style dining table, to greet them. I stop my work to observe them.
Delilah giggles and throws her arms around Ru as she and her mom make their way from the stairs to the main floor.
Ru licks her relentlessly as her tail wags faster than I’ve ever seen.
The sight of her and the smile on Delilah’s face puts a smile on my own, which only grows as my attention shifts to Darcy.
Her long, blonde hair is still a bit damp from her shower, which makes her soft, natural wave even more obvious.
And, while I didn’t think it was possible for her to become more beautiful, her face free of any makeup has proven me wrong.
She has perfect skin—so perfect I wonder her age—and lips, plush and soft like pillows, and piercing blue eyes that shine even brighter as the morning sunlight hits her.
Making use of the clothes I left for them in the armoire, she somehow made a skirt out of my stretchy gray t-shirt.
It hugs her hips and the soft outline of her stomach so perfectly, too perfectly.
And, with my white dress-shirt effortlessly knotted beneath her breasts, I’m just thankful the threads are dense enough to conceal her nipples. For her sake, mine and everyone else’s.
As my mouth fills with saliva, I clear my throat.
The sound draws Darcy’s attention to me just as Delilah takes off running toward the living room with Ru.
Finding my gaze on her, she parts her lips and lowers her head.
Giving Delilah one last glance and issuing her a soft warning, “Be careful with the furniture, sweetie and the dog,” she makes her way toward me.
“Oh, she’s fine,” I tell her, rounding the prep table. “Furniture is replaceable, and Ru is used to a little roughhousing.”
“His name is Ru?” Delilah asks from the living room. It seems the open floor plan is coming in handy this morning.
“Yes, well, her name is.”
“Ooooo, so we can play princess together,” Delilah says, directing her attention back to Ru. I let out a soft laugh.
“I think she’d like that,” I say. It’s then that Darcy rests her hands on the edge of the white countertop, which segments the kitchen from the living room. Her eyes on me and a face full of curiosity, I ask, “Is something wrong?” She shakes her head without uttering a word. “Okay, well…”
I make my way across the kitchen, grab a mug from one of the wooden shelves, and fill her cup with what’s left from the pot. “How about some coffee? I hope black is okay. All the dairy products in the fridge are expired. Honestly, everything is. I’ll have to go to the grocery store soon.”
“You mean, I’ll have to go. I’m sure, as your maid, grocery shopping is my responsibility,” she says as she takes the cup from me. “As is cooking breakfast. So, why don’t you let me—”
“Darcy,” I say, stepping in front of her as she moves toward the prep table.
She quickly takes a step back. Noticing her hand shaking, she places the coffee mug on the countertop before she loses her grip.
She squeezes her eyes closed for a brief moment and inhales deeply.
Okay, noted—no sudden movements and no cornering, however unintentional.
I thought when she agreed to come with me, it was because she trusted me, at least on some level.
Maybe that was na?ve of me? Or perhaps the wounds of her past are so deeply ingrained in her, her body reacts with fear even if her mind knows I won’t hurt her?
Either way, I need to be more mindful about triggering her.
Opening her eyes, she bites her lip to regain control. “Yes?” She asks, her voice strained.
“I was just going to say that I haven’t had a chance to draw up the paperwork yet, so technically, you’re my guest, not my employee.
Given everything that happened last night, I thought you and Delilah could take the morning to rest and get your bearings.
We’ll eat breakfast. And then we’ll head back into town to get you everything you need to feel settled—clothes, shoes, toiletries, and maybe some things to keep Delilah entertained. I have a friend lined up to help us.”
“Oh, Delilah is incredibly simple. We both are. Really, we’re not worth all the fuss,” she says dismissively, shaking her head.
“Yes, you are,” I say. With that, I grab her coffee mug from atop the countertop and offer it to her once more. “Besides, while my shirt looks great on you, I’m sure you’d be much more comfortable—and efficient—in clothing of your own.”
Darcy lets out a soft breath and lowers her gaze from me to the mug. She gently nods and takes it. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Good.” With that, I return to the prep table and throw all the ingredients for the burritos in a large pot with some oil and seasoning. I know something about this doesn’t seem right, but it was the only dish big enough I could find.
“Wait. What are you making?” Darcy asks, nearly choking on her coffee.
I look at the contents of the pot, at her, and back at the pot. “Honestly, I don’t know. I had a plan for burritos, but I’m struggling with the execution.”
“Hmm.” Darcy takes a few more sips of her coffee and looks around the kitchen.
It’s made-up mostly of white quartz countertops for eating and entertaining, a large, wooden hood that centers the space, and a few floating shelves for the basic dishes needed to get through the day.
To be honest, I feel like it was designed for mere appearance rather than functionality.
Before we let the staff go, my meals were prepared in the main house and brought out to me.
So, while there is a walk-in pantry and plenty of lower cabinets filled with random gadgets and pots and pans, this space has never really been used for anything other than coffee, midnight snacks, re-heating takeout, and morning protein shakes.
And it’s never really been a problem—until now.
Darcy makes her way slowly to the prep table where I stand.
As she approaches, I’m sure to stand extra still.
She glances in the pot and then looks in the direction of the arched wooden door, which stands out amongst the stone walls and gray-green-painted cabinets.
“Is that the pantry?” she asks. I nod. Carrying her coffee cup with her, she enters the pantry and reemerges with a random small appliance.
“What is that?” I ask, standing up straight.
“This is the solution to our dilemma.” She places the device on the countertop facing the living room, gives Delilah and Ru a glance, and then returns her attention to me.
“Gio, meet air fryer. Air fryer, meet Gio.” The sound of my name crossing her lips tugs at my own.
It’s going to take a while but… Maybe one day she will be comfortable here, comfortable with me.
At least, I hope so. Because I could get used to seeing her in my kitchen, wearing my button-down.
I drop my head as the thought comes to me.
What she said yesterday about me wanting a wife couldn’t be further from the truth.
And yet there’s no denying I want her. I want her happy.
I want her safe. I want her relaxed. I want her in my space.
I stop myself before mentally listing all the other things I want—from her, for her, to do to her, with her.
No, I don’t want a wife. But I do want Darcy, just Darcy.
And so, I will be patient, gentle, and understanding for as long as she needs me to be.
I will keep my urges and forbidden desires in check, and I will give her the environment of professionalism that I promised while showing her the kindness I fear she’s unaccustomed to.
With that resolve, I ask, “And what do you propose I do with Mr. Air fryer?”
Darcy sets her coffee cup aside and says, “I propose you let me help you, because there’s no rule that says guests can’t assist. I quite enjoy cooking, and this is far too beautiful of a home to risk you burning it down.”
I nod and surrender to her. “Very well.” I throw up my hands in defeat as she takes the contents of my pot, plucks out the sliced turkey, and puts everything else in the air fryer.
Within a matter of minutes, she has the potatoes and onions crisped, as well as the tortillas, and the burritos assembled.
While I had planned to help her, she moved so quickly, I thought it best to stay out of her way so as not to trigger her.
Besides, I think I enjoy watching her as much as she enjoys cooking.
As she, Delilah and I sit down at the table to eat our burritos, I say, “So, you like the house?”
Darcy nods as she chews. “It’s beautiful. Not exactly what I would’ve pictured for you though. It’s so…” she trails off, unwilling to finish her sentence.
“So what?” I ask. She shrugs shyly. “It’s okay. You can tell me. I won’t get mad.”
She looks at me then and allows her eyes to drift down, taking in my casual yet perfectly tailored ensemble of a gray shirt and navy-blue slacks.
I say casual lightly because my true casual attire is an all-black tactical uniform that I doubt would go over well.
Finally, she says, “It’s so cozy and you’re so…
polished. It’s just not what I would’ve pictured for you.
And the dog? You seem more like a cat-guy. ”
I smile and take another massive bite of my burrito.
It’s a million times better than anything I ever could’ve made with those measly ingredients.
After swallowing, I say, “Well, I have a soft spot for strays. Ru was a rescue, taken in by one of the companies I run as an emotional support dog for the employees. But, after a while, it became obvious she’d be better suited here.
And, as far as the polish goes, don’t let it fool you. It’s a uniform, not a lifestyle.”
Darcy’s eyes narrow as she takes in all that I’ve said. I can tell she’s trying to figure me out, perhaps almost as much as I’m trying to figure out her. It’s then that Delilah asks, “What’s a lifestyle?”