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“Are you hungry?”
I nodded again.
I wasn’t surprised that Damian had house staff, but I had hoped he’d be the first one I saw. He wasn’t even here right now, and I was disappointed, and a little awkward as I glanced around the large house.
“Why don’t you come into the kitchen and we’ll get something for you.” She motioned to the wheelchair in the hall.
I shook my head. “That’s alright, I can make it.”
“Are you sure? I was told you wouldn’t be walking for the next few days.”
“I’m fine.” I assured her as I eased myself down the stairs, realizing this was a stupid idea. My feet stung with every step, and my gauze wrapped hands were not doing much in the way of gripping the railing.
“We have an elevator, dear.”
“No, thanks.” I was already halfway, so I just committed, hobbling the rest of the way down with nothing but my pride and my undependable grip on the banister.
The woman guided me into the kitchen, and I sat at the table in the breakfast nook. I looked around. It was surprisingly warm and homey here. More than I had expected. Probably his ex wife’s doing, I decided.
“Just let Mario know what you’d like, and he can make it for you.”
I nodded as the woman disappeared into another room.
Mario walked towards me from the end of the galley kitchen and looked at me expectantly. “What sounds good, Ms. Easton?”
“Uh, what do you have?”
“I can whip up just about anything you can think of.”
“Do you have anything that’s easy to eat with no hands?” I held up my gauze mitten hands.
He smiled, “How about something with a straw?”
“That would work.” I smiled.
“Hot or cold?”
“Uh, what can you make that’s not a smoothie?”
“I can make you a nourishing broth. How does that sound?”
“That sounds good.”
Something hot and home cooked did sound good. I had been living off of office snacks and willpower the last few weeks. Damian had been working me to the bone, and I hadn’t done the best job at feeding myself between all the work errands he had me running.
As Mario turned to get to work in the galley kitchen, I looked down and suddenly felt self conscious in my T-shirt with my bare legs and bare ass. I was half naked in his house full of strangers.
I grumbled to myself, too late now, it was hard enough to get up and down the stairs, and I didn’t have any clothes here, anyway.
This is Damian's fault. Where the hell did my clothes go? Bloody or not, I wanted them back. I only had a handful of professional pieces, and I needed every last one of them. I grumbled to myself, as I made up an imaginary argument in my head with Damian.
Mario walked over with my soup, and I caught myself mumbling and blushed. Soon I was slurping down the most delicious warm lemony chicken broth. Mario and I made polite chit-chat as I ate.
As I slowed down and sat there finishing the last few slurps, I realized Mario had suddenly disappeared from the kitchen.
I looked up, and Damian was leaning in the doorframe into the kitchen with his arms crossed, watching me eat, the corners of his mouth twitching. The sight of him immediately turned me on. All cleaned up and dressed in a sharp suit, a contrast to his disheveled blood covered state, thanks to me, yesterday.
“Oh shit. Hi.” I choked on my soup.
