Chapter 25
CHAPTER 25
MICHAEL
I was almost done with getting everything ready when I received an alert from Mamadou to inform me that my guest was on her way up.
I gave my place a quick once over before I wiped my hands on a small tea towel before throwing it over my shoulder and walking over to the entryway to greet her.
Seconds seemed to stretch to hours and I wiped my moist hands on the sides of my trousers.
It’s just a dinner date , I reminded myself.
Albeit I’d never been on a first date, I knew how to host people. Surely, this wouldn’t be any different, right?
But I’d learned early on that when it came to Azara, nothing was ever just .
This was different in every way.
The lift doors slid open to reveal the only person that seemed to occupy my mind these days. It was like she’d reached into my brain and planted herself there, unwavering.
Azara stood there, her silhouette framed by the soft glow of the lights above her.
Her beauty was truly unmatched.
Her curls draped loosely over her shoulder and she’d changed into a pair of dark washed jeans and a brown cardigan that matched her flats. I’d seen her outside of her scrubs in the past, but the casual nature of her outfit sent a new warmth through my body.
I relished in seeing her so… relaxed in my own space.
But it made what I’d been denying myself for quite some time more apparent.
I was growing to like her.
And I was hoping tonight would… I wasn’t sure what I expected tonight would attain, I just knew I wanted to experience her outside of work.
“You came.”
She tucked part of her hair behind her right ear. “I did,” she said quietly, and I hated the uncertainty in her tone. She didn’t seem uncomfortable, but it was almost as if she was unsure that coming over was the right choice.
She stood perfectly still, her gaze lingering in the space between us. Uneasiness started creeping up my spine, hoping I hadn’t scared her off by asking her to come over.
The doors began to close, and my hand shot up, firmly stopping them from doing so.
I slipped on a half-smile to hopefully ease whatever she was feeling. “Are you coming in, or do I need to carry you?” I asked, referring to the only other time she’d been here.
My quiet invitation hung in the air between us as my gaze held hers.
Her feet remained rooted in the spot for a moment longer, before she took a small breath and took a few steps forward, until she stood right in front of me.
“Hi,” she said, looking up at me.
My smile grew wider. “Hi.”
I could easily grab her face in my hands and kiss her, but I knew that we’d never make it past the entryway. I might be playing with fire by inviting her over, but I couldn’t break my oath.
Even as tempting as Azara was.
Keep telling yourself that, that voice in my head muttered.
I took a small step back, not enough to put real distance between us because I liked having her close, but just enough to gesture for her to venture farther inside.
After she slipped off her shoes, I placed a hand on the small of her back, finding the warmth of her body strangely comforting beneath my fingers. I guided her down the hallway and into the large lower living space.
Her eyes slightly widened when her gaze trailed to the open-plan kitchen that connected to the private terrace, which overlooked the city. “You’re cooking?” she asked, her tone full of surprise as if the idea of me doing so was unimaginable.
My hand dropped from her back when she moved closer to the island counter to look over what I’d made. I’d debated on what to make for hours, until I’d finally landed on Bibimbap since I found out after some research that it was diabetic friendly. I didn’t want her to overthink about eating. I’d also grown up eating it all the time and needed something comforting so I could find some semblance of it during the night.
I’d never been the nervous type, but since I’d come up with it, the idea of tonight had been looming over my head. You’d think my life was depending on it. In any other scenario, I wouldn’t have cared, but I was coming to learn that with Azara, I did care about what she thought.
“I can make something different, if you?—”
She whipped around to interrupt me. “No, I just meant…” Her words trailed off when a faint blush creeped across her face. She hastily shook her head and cleared her throat before adding, “Never mind. This looks amazing.”
She faced away from me again and approached the kitchen island to find the various bowls with all the ingredients I needed. I’d already marinated the vegetables and beef so that I’d only be left to cook them when she arrived.
I didn’t want anything to get cold by the time she made it and it’d give me something to distract myself with while she took up space with her presence.
My brows furrowed for a moment, wondering why she was acting embarrassed, when it dawned on me why my cooking dinner for us had taken her aback. I hadn’t really told her about my reason behind inviting her over.
She must have thought…
A smile pulled at the corner of my lips as I quietly closed the distance, until my front was flushed to her back. A sweet gasp escaped her lips when I brought mine close to her ear.
“I could spread you open on the counter if you preferred,” I murmured, my voice dropping, before pulling away and walking into the kitchen.
The idea was all-consumingly tempting, but we’d never make it to dinner and knowing her, she probably hadn’t eaten much all day.
I looked over to where she was still rooted in place, the previous faint flush that had decorated her cheeks much darker now.
There were many facets of Azara I found fascinating, but this one had to be my favorite. She was always so assertive and opinionated, that seeing her speechless and embarrassed was quite a sight.
My mind wandered to images of other places she could blush so easily but I pushed them away before I came back on my words and abandoned my original plans.
“Wanna take a seat?” I said, pointing at the chairs on the island opposite me with my chin.
She startled, realizing I was speaking to her, and cleared her throat. “Oh, yeah. Sure.” Heading for one of the cushioned high chairs, Azara took a seat, placing her work tote bag on the one next to hers and sinking her chin into her open palm.
I stifled a chuckle and grabbed some of the bowls that contained the sliced vegetables to bring them over to the stove which thankfully still gave me a view of her. I resumed cooking while I watched her from the corner of my eye silently take me in, as if she was appraising me.
I didn’t mind being the object of her scrutiny but I wondered what was going on in that pretty head of hers. I refrained from asking, wanting to see if she would make the first move. After a few moments of stillness, the only sound coming from the sizzling pans, she finally spoke up.
“Are you planning on poisoning me?”
My brows furrowed for a moment before a sound I hadn’t heard in a long time escaped me. I burst out laughing at her insinuation as I leaned against the counter behind me. I tilted my head to the side with a small smile, and crossed my arms over my chest.
“Don’t you think if I’d wanted to poison you, it would be much more efficient to do so at the hospital than at my own place?”
“Fair enough.” She shrugged. “Still had to ask.”
I huffed out a small laugh and returned my attention to the stove, stirring the vegetables and meat in their respective pans. I was about to ask if she wanted a drink when she started making conversation.
“Where did you learn how to cook?”
I briefly glanced over at her, finding her gazing at me with a curious expression. “My grandmother,” I replied, memories of the various moments I spent in the kitchen with her coming to mind.
When we lived in Korea, my parents were often busy, so I’d spent the majority of my time with her. She’d always sit me on the kitchen counter while she cooked, telling me fragments of her life, and when I was old enough to help, she put me to work.
“I grew up in Korea and she always said that a man should stop being lazy and know how to cook. So I would help her in the kitchen whenever she made food for our family.”
I never shared personal details about my life with anyone, but I found myself compelled to tell her. My grandmother was blunt and one of the rare people that treated me as me, despite her knowing what I was meant to be.
She hadn’t been supposed to be privy to the House, but she’d been too smart and had figured it out within the first few years of her marriage to my grandfather. She’d eventually been sworn to secrecy and became the first and only woman to be a part of the Atlas.
She wasn’t a member, but she was held to the same standard.
“I like her,” Azara said with a small smile on her face.
I couldn’t help but smile myself. She rarely ever smiled when I was around and it was a good thing, because Azara Ziani smiling was dangerously addicting.
My eyes flit up to hers. “She would like you too,” I replied without thinking. It wasn’t a lie, my grandmother would adore Azara, but it wasn’t something I was supposed to say.
This was nothing more than a casual dinner.
Turning off the stove, I washed my hands, before wiping them dry on the cloth draped over my shoulder. I then grabbed the large dish from the counter, it already had the spinach and soybean sprouts side dishes I’d prepared earlier, and plated the sautéed and seasoned vegetables as well as the marinated meat.
Everything else had already been set up on the island, so I placed the large plate onto the centre so it’d be easier to serve ourselves.
“Do you do this often?” Azara asked as I rummaged through a drawer for clean utensils.
“Do what?”
When I made my way to her, she was gesturing at the set up with a sweep of her hand. “This.”
I titled my head, raising a brow. “Cook?”
“You know what I mean,” she replied, grabbing the two spoons from my hands. Our fingers brushed during the exchange, and she hastily snatched her hand away.
“I’m afraid I don’t.” I knew exactly what she was implying, but I enjoyed her unease far too much to make it easy on her.
She waited a beat before rolling her eyes. “Never mind.” She grabbed one of the shallow bowls and looked at me for instructions. “What’s the best way to eat this?” she asked, changing the subject.
I grabbed the bowl from her hand and said, “Let me.”
I quickly dished up hers, asking what she’d like while showing how I’d usually plate up mine. I’d made some modifications to the dish to avoid Azara’s sugar spiking later on or for her to feel like she couldn’t enjoy the meal because she had to manage her portion.
Once I was done with plating hers, I made my own bowl before leaving it on the counter and went to grab a small pan and the carton of eggs from the built-in fridge.
I fired up the stove once more and turned to ask her, “Would you like a fried egg on your bowl?” When she hesitated, I added, “It’s much better with it, but you can try mine first, and if you like it, I’ll whip one up for you.”
Once the egg was cooked, I crossed to the other side of the island and took the empty seat next to Azara. I could have offered for us to sit at the giant dining table behind us, but she’d be too far from me.
I reached for the small bowl, drizzled the sauce I’d whisked over my dish, broke the yolk, and mixed it all together before scooping up a bite and shifting my body sideways so I could face her better.
“Here, try it,” I ordered, holding the spoon up to her.
Her eyes flickered between my eyes and the spoon. She reached for it, but I moved her hand away with my free hand. “Let me,” I gently ordered, my voice low.
Realizing that I was intending to feed her, she dropped her hand onto her thigh, and bit into her bottom lip, contemplating what to do.
After what felt like an eternity, she hesitantly nodded and said, “Okay.”
With a small smirk fixed on my face, I leaned closer, and she met me halfway. Our eyes stayed glued to each other, her gaze turning heated when the spoon touched her lips.
For a moment, neither of us moved. The silence between us was so thick, it was almost palpable. Heat spread across my skin and my heart rate began furiously pounding in my chest as her mouth slightly opened up and I pushed past it, feeding her.
With her eyes still fixed on mine, Azara leaned back and almost imperceptibly shifted in her seat. Her thumb swiped over her bottom lip to catch a small drop of the sauce before she pushed it in her mouth, licking it clean.
A vision of me forcing something different between her soft, full lips flashed in my mind unbidden. Just the idea of her mouth, licking, sucking, swallowing me, sent goosebumps filtering across my skin.
“Mmm,” she said, as she swallowed her food. “That’s actually delicious.”
When I brought my attention back to her, she was watching me with a glint in her eyes telling me she knew exactly where my mind had just gone.
I might have been the one who’d initiated it, but she knew exactly what she was doing. I placed the empty spoon against my tongue and licked it, the faint remnant of her taste mixed with the rice dish flooding my palate.
I hummed. “You’re right. Fucking exquisite.”