50. CHAPTER 47 #4
“Obviously,” he said. “You steal hotel stationery. I steal dry-cleaning pens. She can decide whose crimes she prefers.”
“The woman behind the counter thought I was lost,” he told me with a rare, boyish smirk forming on his lips.
“She tried to give me directions to the nearest Starbucks. While she was pointing at a map, I liberated the pen. And I believe I may have accidentally walked off with their spare notepad, too.”
He pulled it from his other pocket, looking entirely too proud of his petty theft.
“You’re the CEO of a multi-billion euro empire,” I reminded him, shaking my head even as a warm swell of affection rose within me. “You could have bought the whole area.”
“Buying the area isn’t a heist, Léa,” he countered, his hands sliding down to rest possessively on my hips, one thumb brushing again where our daughter had moved.
“Stealing a pen because I knew it would make you smile? That’s a victory.
Now…take me upstairs and tell me how much you missed your favorite criminal. ”
I did exactly that. Thoroughly. By the time we finally came up for air, my hair was a mess, his tie was hanging off the headboard, and neither of us remembered where the pen had ended up. I made a mental note to find it later so I could add it to my collection.
An hour later, we sat in our bedroom, the duvet scattered with the spoils of his New York raid.
“You’re actually going to eat that?” I asked, watching in disbelief as Orion sat against the headboard, shirtless.
Between us sat a slightly smashed honey bun, a package of neon-pink snack cakes, and a bag of salt-and-vinegar chips.
He’d never eat anything like this. On a normal day, these would be labeled unhealthy. But here he was eager to try one.
“I believe the term is When in Rome, Léa,” he quipped, eyeing a snack cake the way a scientist would a foreign geological sample. “Though in this case, it’s When in Brooklyn.”
“Mrs. Lewis is going to have a heart attack,” I whispered, already tearing into the chips. “If she sees these crumbs on the bed sheet, she’ll exile me.”
“Mrs. Lewis doesn’t run this house,” Orion said, his voice turned bossy. “You do.”
I wanted to tell him it didn’t matter who did. Mrs Lewis would still bicker about unhealthy food, especially the ones eaten in spaces where food wasn’t allowed.
He took a bite of the pink cake, his brow furrowing as he analyzed the sugar.
“It tastes like… pink,” he said, his nose wrinkling.
“And chemicals. And also a staggering amount of disappointment.” He took another bite, his eyes darkening as they fixed on mine.
“Still, I can’t stop eating it. Is this what your life was like before me? Just sugar and defiance?”
“Pretty much,” I laughed, licking a stray spark of salt from my thumb.
Orion’s hand shot out, capturing my wrist. I’d thought he wanted to take a bite of the chip I was holding, but the playfulness instantly vanished, giving way to a heavy, magnetic intensity.
He didn’t want the chip. He pulled my hand toward his mouth and kissed the inside of my palm, his tongue darting out to taste the salt on my skin as he held my gaze.
“The sugar is fine, Léa. But the defiance?” His eyes still on mine as he spoke. “That’s always been my favorite thing about you.”
My breath caught. He drew me in gently, pressing kisses from my knuckles before following the line of my forearm.
“I’ve always meant to ask,” he whispered as he kissed his way up my neck. “Why do you hate pistachios so much?”
A helpless laugh slipped out of me. “Because they’re green like vegetables,” I said simply. “They’ve never looked appealing to me. They are work and punishment disguised as a snack.”
He actually laughed, loud and honest, and I loved the sound of it. Then he grabbed my waist and pulled me closer, pressing his mouth to my neck. My pulse stuttered, heat hitting low in my stomach as his lips grazed that spot just below my jaw.
“Ori… oh god—” I tried to pull back to get my thoughts together. “You’re going to get grease on the pillows,” I managed, breathless.
“Let it stain,” he muttered, pulling me toward him until I was sprawled across his lap, the bag of chips crinkling loudly between us. “I’ll buy a new bed tomorrow. Tonight, I just want to know what you taste like when you’re happy.”
He leaned in, his mouth finally finding mine, the taste of cheap salt mixing with the expensive heat of him—right as the distinct click-clack of Mrs. Lewis’s heels echoed down the hallway for the housekeeping evening rounds.
“Orion!” I hissed into his lips. “She’s coming!”
He didn’t move. He didn’t even attempt to scramble to hide the trash. Instead he reached out, grabbed a handful of the salt-and-vinegar chips, and crunched one loudly, looking directly at the door with a dare in his eyes.
“Let her come,” he said, gripping me firmer. “She needs to learn that the Kades are under new management.”
“Maia, you need to stand your ground with Mrs Lewis.”
I could hear the mock-serious warning under the amusement. I laughed, because we both knew the truth: nothing ran in this house unless Mrs. Lewis allowed it.