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I couldn’t help but think, though, that last night’s attack at Larkspur had shoved Leo and I into a potential truce. It might’ve been a loose truce, built on a nearly nonexistent foundation, but as I stood next to him in the elevator on our ascent up to his sparkling apartment, I realized I didn’t feel so nervous about the week to come.
Neither of us were going into Larkspur tonight—it was my night off anyway, and Leo didn’t go because he had to keep an eye on me, or so he said. With his parents coming, he would have been mostly absent anyway, so I didn’t feel too bad about him staying home because of me.
I’d received texts from Nora, Sam, Frank, and Ethan throughout the day, all checking on me and making sure I was okay. Each one of them made the knot in my chest loosen just a little—it felt nice to have people who genuinely cared about me, as if they were real friends and not just people I worked with every day.
Charlea had also texted a few times over the course of the afternoon, and that made me smile too—though, I found myself keeping my conversation with her light enough to avoid making plans. There was no way I could explain my little arrangement with Leo without sounding absolutely insane, and it wasn’t like she was my girlfriend. I’d settled on the choice to wait until Leo and I got through this week together, and then go from there.
Something told me I’d need the release that came with a sexy sleepover.
I sat quietly at Leo’s kitchen island. Just like last time, his skills were captivating, and the food smelled absolutely divine. I was fully engrossed as the gorgeous man in front of me expertly sautéed blackberries and pears with a generous splash of red wine while lamb chops roasted in the oven. He was making a chutney from scratch, apparently. Another pan on the stove was full of seared potatoes and carrots seasoned with rosemary and thyme.
“Where’d you learn to cook like this?” I asked as my mouth watered.
He turned to face me, a cocky smirk spreading along his handsome face. “My grandfather taught me most of what I know. I started cooking with him when I’d visit him and my grandmother as a boy, and liked it so much that I took a few classes in college.”
“Wow,” I said on an exhale. “It’s pretty amazing.” My skills in the kitchen were far more frivolous, but I could make a mean grilled cheese sandwich. My mom was the one who always cooked meals for our family, but I was never interested enough to hang around and learn from her.
The thought sent a pang of regret through my chest.
Leo’s smirk dazzled brighter as he gave me a quick wink before turning to the pot in front of him. He wore an off-white sweater that looked so soft I had to stop myself from reaching out and touching it. Soon, the elevator chimed from the front entryway, signaling it was on its way up from the lobby, and I watched his body visibly stiffen as his back grew rigid.
“Are you okay?” I whisper-shouted across the expansive island, as if the people thirty feet away and tucked inside an elevator car would be able to hear me.
He turned to look at me, the easy smirk no longer present. Instead, his face was twisted in anxiety as his eyes seemed to search mine for something. Taking in a deep breath, he nodded. “This will be fine,” he said, more to himself than to me. But it wasn’t very convincing.
I was wearing one of my nicer shirts, black cotton with sheer, flowing sleeves that tapered to a cuff at each wrist. Dark denim jeans hugged my waist and thighs. I’d curled my hair as well—I didn’t really care about what his parents thought of me, but it was important that my being Leo’s girlfriend was believable, so I wanted to give it my best shot. Especially after he’d stepped up to look after me last night.
And, most importantly, because Larkspur was on the line.
Leo used the kitchen towel resting over his shoulder to wipe his hands down before throwing it on the counter and marching toward the elevator doors. I stood up and trailed a few feet behind him, forcing a smile on my face and remembering the goal here—Leo and I were supposed to be in love. With that in mind, I skipped forward and tucked myself into his side when I reached him, throwing an arm around his middle. I tried not to notice how firm and muscular his torso felt. He looked down at me with a puzzled look, but I flashed him my brightest fake smile. “Put your arm around me,” I said behind clenched teeth.
His face morphed into what looked like shock. But then the elevator doors were opening, and he swung a large arm around my shoulders at the last second. We both turned to face the older couple.
The man was tall, but not quite as tall as Leo. His skin was the same deep olive tone that held a sharp contrast to the white button-up dress shirt he wore under a tailored black suit. It seemed Leo got his jaw line and chestnut hair—and fondness for luxury—from his father. He carried what looked like a large black overcoat in one arm while this other hand held a designer suitcase.
Next to him was a thin woman with jet-black hair and blue eyes the same color as Leo’s, except where Leo’s were bright and glittering, hers were cold and sharp as they assessed us both with a heavy look. She wore a posh blue dress and a fur jacket that was cut at the waist. Swift—suddenly appearing from behind the front entryway table—rubbed affectionately against my ankle before she let out a soft meow, and I watched Leo’s mother’s gaze drop down to stare at the cat as a frown formed on her face.
For a long moment, we all simply stared at each other. Leo’s arm had tightened so firmly around my shoulders that it squeezed my bones against each other, but I kept the fake, toothy smile plastered on my face. Eventually, Leo spurred into movement and stepped forward to reach for his father’s suitcase, his gorgeous hair slipping down across his forehead. “Here, let me?—”
“Hello, son.” His father’s voice wasn’t loud, but it commanded attention.
Leo’s arm dropped to his side as he straightened again. He nodded once. “Hello, Dad.”
His father’s eyes trailed around the foyer. “Nice place you have here.” It sounded like a compliment, but it didn’t feel like one.
Leo swiped a hand through his hair, pushing it back up and off his face. “I hope you both are hungry . . . I’ve got dinner almost ready in the kitchen.” He reached for the suitcase again. “Here, let me take this from you.” After taking a hold of the handle and pulling it toward himself, he let go of it to lean in and kiss his mother on the cheek. “Hi, Mom. You look well.”
His mother’s frown straightened. “Thank you, dear.” Her eyes moved past him and landed on me, and it was like suddenly being under a microscope with the way she scanned me up and down. “Who’s this?”
I felt like an idiot, standing here with a wide smile glued to my face. But ready or not, the performance was on. Leo turned to face me, a grin spreading on his own face. And though it was obvious how tense he was, I didn’t miss the way his eyes twinkled as he moved to resume his place next to me, abandoning the suitcase. His arm snaked around me again, and goosebumps rose along my neck. “This . . .” he said, before pressing a small kiss to the side of my head. It was warm and soft and so unexpected I nearly squeaked. “This is Mara. Mara”—his eyes moved to his parents—“this is my mom and dad.”
Both of his parents stared at me blankly. I felt my smile falter for a moment before I forced it back up and stepped forward, holding my hand out in front of me toward Leo’s father. “Nice to meet you . . .”
“Alaric,” he finished for me, taking my hand into his for only a second before he let it go. His hands were cold from the October air outside, but I wondered if he might be this frigid all the time. “And this is my wife, Christine.”
Pivoting to face his mother, I found her eyes fastened to my septum ring. “It’s so nice to meet you, too,” I said tightly.
Christine’s gaze bounced from my piercing to her son behind me, disdain evident in her features. “You have a . . . friend?”
