It was a little maddening.
He poked Des right in the chest. “Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Don’t be all, oh he’s crazy because he’s preggers.”
Des gave him a fond smile. “Oh, love. It’s going to be okay.”
“I know. It is. Help me get the furniture where it belongs.”
“Of course.” So Dez threw in with the guys and got the big couches moved, directing everyone to clean where they’d been, the rugs a little worn around them but mostly pristine underneath…
“Can we get the rugs cleaned?”
“I’ll get someone in today, sweet. But you don’t need to be around all those chemicals.” Des stroked his hair, then bent to kiss his nose. “Are you hungry?”
“Oh.” He could eat. His belly rumbled, and he hummed. “Yes.”
“Let me tell Reed to get someone in to clean the rugs. We have a company to do that. And security will be with them.” Des took his hand, leading him toward the kitchen.
When he looked back at the front room, the furniture looked right.
Des sat him at the kitchen counter, the buckety bar stools so nice and padded.
“So, what do you want, love?” Des started opening the fridge, the cabinets.
“Are you going to cook for me?” They had a cook, but she was probably out doing the weekly shop.
“I am. There’s stuff for grilled cheese and tomato soup, or I can do spaghetti and meatballs. Or if tomatoes are too acidy, I can make a quick potato soup.”
“Potato soup sounds amazing.”
Des bowed, then pulled out cream and milk. “Done. How are you feeling, my love?”
“Heavy.” He chuckled. “And I have this compulsion to clean things. To make them perfect.”
“The midwife says that’s all natural.”
“I know, but it itches when something isn’t right.” In fact, the cannisters were out of order. He popped up to move them around.
Des just chopped onions and got oil going in soup pan. Serene, for the big alpha. Damn his eyes.
“You’re such an ass,” he told Des.
“I love you.”
Alistair beamed. “I love you too.”
“So how is Reed doing as your assistant?” Des asked, stirring onions, which, thank the gods wasn’t bothering his tummy now.
“Well. He’s fitting right in. He loves to plan things, and he never acts like I’m a hormonal mess. And he loves to take calls.”
“Then he’s perfect.” Des chuckled, then pulled out the mandolin to slice potatoes.
He knew no one in Des’s corporate circle would believe this domestic, loving dragon. Des was considered ruthless and dangerous to cross.
Alistair knew how different he was, how muchmorehe was. Des was wicked smart and all alpha, but he was loving and generous and had the heart of a lion…
