13.
“E xcuse me, sir. You are not allowed in here! Hello? Excuse me! ”
Dorran breezes into the massive kitchen – my hand in his – with me mouthing “ I’m sorry ” to every confused chef who looks at me with a dumbfounded expression on their face.
We barely spent five minutes in the bathroom after leaving Haroon’s body with Magner.
Dorran was more concerned about getting ice than ridding his hands and blade of Haroon’s blood.
Sometimes it’s tough trying to figure out his priorities.
It’s a chore, honestly – one I find myself incompetent of handling sometimes.
As I’m being tugged further into the room, I can’t help but admire its pristine, stainless-steel interior. It definitely feels more commercial than personal, with soft hints of wood and marble adding a unique touch to it.
The kitchen is divided into four sections: the storage space, the dishwashing area, the prepping tables, and then, of course, the main cooking station.
Bright, CFL lights cover the ceiling, filling the room with crystal-clear brightness.
The smell of rosemary and garlic wafts through the air, and the sound of spoons clattering, along with the muted chatter of the chefs in the back really make this kitchen feel welcoming.
Well, except for a few glares that are currently following me around as Dorran continues to invade an obviously busy workspace.
“Can somebody give me some ice?” he asks out loud.
“Good God , Dorran,” I mumble. “Lower your voice .”
He ignores me, then repeats his question, making me flinch.
A chef walks over to us with a pack of ice cubes in hand.
“Sir, entering this area is strictly prohibited. If you need something from the kitchen, all you have to do is ask the wait staff to get it for you.” He hands the pack of cubes to Dorran.
“But now that you’re here, you can take these.
” He gives off Jeff Bridges vibes, given the fact that he looks like him.
Sorta. Also, the way he narrows his eyes at us makes things more uncanny.
“I’m a guest here. Am I not allowed to explore the estate?” Dorran says.
The chef – Samson, according to the name embroidered on his uniform – clicks his tongue as he gives Dorran a once over. “Unless you’re planning on helping us with the dishes after the gala, then I’d say no; no, you’re not allowed to explore the kitchen.”
Dorran grins. “I think you’re forgetting who you’re talking to.”
Samson smirks. “Of course not, Mr. Ledger ,” he muses. “You are our employer’s esteemed guest tonight. Not ours , just his .”
I hear a couple of chuckles behind me, and when Dorran sneers their way, they quickly quiet down and go back to their tasks.
“I could really use some time away from the crowd,” I tell Samson, then flash a smile at him. “Being around the upper-class folks for long periods of time can be too stuffy, as I’m sure you’ll understand.”
He studies me for a moment, then laughs around a shake of his head. “You’re smooth, kid, I’ll give ya that.” Pointing a finger at me, he returns my smile with one of his own. “But you also make a valid point, and so, I’ll let you stay, if only for a while.”
“Thank you.”
“And remember: don’t get in the way while my staff’s working, or else I’ll have to throw you out of here.”
I chuckle, then place a hand over Dorran’s mouth when he opens it to most likely narrate one of his lengthy threats to Samson.
“Noted,” I tell the chef. “Scout’s honor.”
Dorran mutters something under his breath, while Samson shakes his head at us yet again, before giving us a nod and heading back to the prep area that’s behind a swing door on the other side of the kitchen.
Once he’s out of sight, I sigh and pull my hand away from Dorran’s mouth.
“You have some serious balls , don’t y–”
“I can do it again, if that’s what you prefer,” I cut him off.
He scowls. “I was just going to ask him to go fuck himself.”
“You were going to list the different ways in which you’d dismember him if he acted sassy with you. Or me.”
He gives me a proper two-second glare. “That, too, yeah.”
I laugh. “You’re so lucky I love you.”
He grins. “As if you have a choice.” He kicks aside a wooden stool that’s in front of him, then places the pack of ice cubes, and my clutch on an empty counter space. Bracketing my waist, he lifts me up and sits me down next to them.
“ Chivalrous ,” I quip, letting my legs dangle in the air.
“Shut your face.” He crouches before me, then raises the hem of my dress before wiggling it at me. “Hold this.”
I do, then suck in a breath when the rough callouses of his hand brush my calf as he cups it and brings my leg forward.
Unhooking the clip, he slides my white heel off my foot, then places it on the floor beside him.
He repeats the process on the other leg, but this time, a small smile plays across his lips as he surveys the heels, running his fingers over the iridescent satin bow that’s attached to the very front of it.
“Cute,” he remarks, then places it next to the other heel before standing. “Gimme your hands.”
I know I shouldn’t feel so dazed, but god dammit , I’m dazed.
And it’s not because of the champagne I’d drunk earlier; it’s simply because of how smitten I am over Dorran.
Every once in a while, he’ll do something that’ll make me realize that I still have so much to learn about him, despite being with him for two years.
There’s layers to him that are soft, and then there are parts of him that are so raw and vulnerable that they tug at the deepest strings of my being.
He’s told me before that he’s lucky to have me, but really, it’s the other way around.
But I won’t tell him that, obviously, because I know he’ll do everything in his power to negate it until I either agree with him, or give up on the topic entirely. Oh, the joys of loving this man.
He spreads my thighs and shifts between them, then glances at my now-exposed gun before bringing his gaze to me. “Why didn’t you use the Glock on him?”
I sigh. “Because it would have created a state of panic and commotion among the guests. And if I’d missed, it’d be for nothing, and we’d fail to finish the job we’re here to do tonight.”
“Fuck the job, Cigs,” he says. “You come first. You’ll always come first.”
“I know . But this isn’t about me , Dor. It’s about your reputation , and for me, that is something that’ll always come first.”
He works his jaw as he looks at me. “I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you how much I don’t care about my reputation where your safety is involved, do you?”
“No. But I hope you know that it goes without saying that I don’t care about myself when it comes to upholding your reputation.”
“I can argue with you over this the entire night,” he challenges.
“I know. But we’ve got shit to do, Ledger, so your arguing will unfortunately have to wait.”
He cracks a wicked smile at me. “Fuck you.”
“Fuck you right back, sir .”
He chuckles, then grabs the ice cubes. Turning my wrists, he stares at them for a long beat, then grits his teeth before placing the pack of cubes on it.
I hiss, both at the cold sensation, and at the dull pain that shoots through my wrists when the ice touches the dusk-colored imprints on the inside of it.
“I’m sorry,” Dorran says as he looks at me. “Does it hurt too bad?”
“Not really, no,” I tell him honestly. “It’s bearable, I promise.”
He nods, seeming a little distraught, then alternates pressing the ice pack on each of my wrists.
“I can’t believe I let something like this happen,” he whispers.
“Especially after what you went through with Miranda and Riley back in Riverside. If anything, I should be more careful now, more…I dunno, smart .”
“Hey.” When he doesn’t meet my eyes, and continues to stare at my wrists, I cup the side of his jaw and lift his face to mine.
“Haroon is dead ,” I state. “You fucking killed him for what he did, just like you ended my mom for how she treated me. Just like I drove a rod into Riley’s chest for trying to take from me what I didn’t wanna give him. It’s done, Dor. It’s done .”
“But it isn’t enough, Cigs,” he says, then shifts the pack to the other wrist. “Death will never be enough for people like them.”
“What else can we possibly do, then? Death is the highest level of punishment we can offer. There’s nothing greater than taking a person’s life in order to strip them of their reign of tyranny.”
He’s silent for a while as he ices both my wrists, and when the pack starts melting on my lap, he grunts and throws it into the nearest bin. “I wish I could bring him to life, just so I could kill him again.”
“Would it make you feel better? If you could do that, I mean.”
“ Fuck yeah ,” he answers instantly. “I’d spend more time showing him how big of a mistake he made by touching and hurting you.” He holds my wrists in each hand, then places feather-soft kisses over my pulse points. “Where else did he touch you?”
“Dor, it’s–”
“ Where else did he fucking touch you, Cigs? ” he asks again, more firmly this time.
I swallow when I see a depthless darkness in his expression. “My waist.” I sigh. “And my stomach.”
Dorran’s jaw hardens. He holds my waist and moves closer to me. “I should have cut off his hands before slitting his throat,” he sneers. “Would have served him right.”
“Can we please not talk about him anymore tonight?” I urge. “As much as I hate him for his disgusting behavior, I really wanna forget about him, Dor – at least for now. Can we please do that?”
He looks utterly guilty as he pulls me to him. “I’m so sorry,” he says. “I’ll keep my thoughts to myself, I promise.”