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“I’d rather work in here.”
“Why?” I stress.
He scrubs a hand over his scruffy jaw and makes a show of resting his gaze on me. “Initially, I came here to keep you company while you cooked.” He runs his tongue over his straight white teeth. “And after the free show I just got, I’m definitely staying.”
Shivers zip up my spine.
Benny stares at me like he wants to eat me alive.
I’m sure the look I’m sending him in return is similar.
I reach down and dig my nails into my leggings.
Living with my husband is becoming dangerous.
The more time we spend together, the more these walls of mine will come down. Walls I thought I’d plastered, nailed, and bonded together.
“Do you know how to cook?” I blurt out, in need of a subject change.
It takes him a moment to register my question since his mind was elsewhere. He gives me anare you seriousexpression.
I park my hands on my hips and try to sound like my mother. “If you want to be in the kitchen, you have to help.” I give him a serious look. “It’s a rule.” When the last word leaves my mouth, I cringe. That was actually a bit too similar to my mother for my liking.
But it’s one of the tricks she used with my father and Tommaso. They’d attempt to linger around the kitchen when we cooked, their intent more to steal food before it was ready, so that was her way of kicking them out.
Benny motions toward the stove. “It appears you have it covered.”
I hold up two fingers. “Two options, Benito.”
A smile hits his lips at my use of his full name.
“One: you help me cook.” I lower a finger. “Two: you return to your office.” I drop the second finger.
“Two minutes ago, you didn’t want me in here. Now, you want my assistance?”
“Go back to your office. I’ll deliver your dinner when I’m finished.” I grab a knife and start dicing the chicken.
“Deliver my dinner?” Benny taps his knuckles against the table before shutting his MacBook. “Not happening,wife. We eat dinner heretogether. Our first meal as newlyweds.”
I tense, waiting for his next move, when he stands.
He pushes his chair in and rubs his hands together while strolling toward me. “Word of caution, Neomi. I’d assign me the easiest job here because I’m bound to fuck something up. Cooking isn’t my strong suit.”
Shit.
Apparently, Benny isn’t as easy to manipulate as my father and brother.
I don’t want Benny’s help. Someone who doesn’t know how to cook is worse than having no help.
There also isn’t much more to do.
I glance around the kitchen, taking in all the ingredients, and point toward the basil leaves with my knife. “Wash those under cold water and then tear them.”
It’s an easy task my mother had me do at three years old.
But I also hope it scares him off.
Benny has others service him while he runs the hottest club in New York and bullies those he doesn’t like. Helping hisunwantedwife in the kitchen and ripping basil don’t fit into that persona.
