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“What are you doing?”
He flashes a smile over his shoulder, and holy shit, my panties are instantly damp.
“If you don’t know what I’m doing, we have a lot of work to do to prepare you for the real world.”
“Smart ass.”
“It’s called dinner, Princess. You slept through dinner last night, so you should be starving by now. Did you have a good sleep?”
I shrug. “Yeah. It was nice to forget the shit show that is my life for a while. Where is everyone, and why are you making dinner?”
He shrugs again. “I sent them home.”
Home?This is their home.
“You mean you sent them to their quarters.”
He frowns at me, and I roll my eyes even though there’s not much heat to the action.
“My staff lives here. Their quarters are at the west end of the house.”
“Okay. Technically? I sent them to their rooms.” He turns back to the stove as if he’s annoyed, but he’s not. I’m starting to understand Lucky.
“I figured you might want a little privacy tonight, even from Frannie.”
Damn, he’s like a fucking unicorn. A bad boy with a heart of gold, being sweet and understanding without me having to ask.
“Yeah, thanks. That was thoughtful of you.”
He shrugs. “What can I say? I’m a thoughtful guy.”
He’s joking, but he is thoughtful, probably the most thoughtful person in my whole fucking life. Lucky is not what he seems. On the surface, he’s a rough sort of man, sharp edges, tattoos, and leather, but inside, where it counts, he’s something else entirely.
“You are, actually. What’s for dinner?”
“Spicy Cajun pasta. Can you handle spicy foods, Princess?”
I roll my eyes, but it falls flat as my lips split into a grin. “I can handle the spice just fine, Lucky. Don’t you worry about me.”
The smells in the kitchen swirl around me, and my stomach growls loud enough to startle a bear.
“Can I help?”
“Sure. If it’s not too early to drink, find us something to drink that goes with Cajun pasta.”
His brow quirks, and he laughs at me over his shoulder, but then his gaze darkens.
I take a step back. “It’s never too early to drink. Do you like wine or no?”
He snorts, and I take that as a no.
“It’s not my favorite, but I’m willing to be open-minded tonight.”
I make my way over to the bar in the living room, where Daddy keeps the expensive booze. The wine cellar is downstairs, but tonight feels like a night for something harder. I bounce my gaze between the expensive bottles.
“Gin or whiskey,” I call out.
Lucky laughs. “I’m fine with either.”
