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Once again, my mouth ignores my brain and I sigh, “You scare the shit out of me, Adonis, but you’re also the most beautiful man I have ever seen.”
“Beautiful?”
My eyes widen as he smirks, and I run my fingers through my hair and groan. “Did I really say that out loud?”
He laughs softly as I say with embarrassment, “I could use a drink.”
He jerks his head toward the kitchen.
“Come, let me fix you something.”
“As in alcohol?” I say hopefully and he shakes his head. “No. Food. You need to eat, and you can listen while I prepare dinner.”
“That’s weird.”
“Why?”
“Because this is my house and you are cooking for me, so, by default, I should be the one cooking for you, not the other way around.”
“Who cooks is irrelevant. We both need to eat, and I have offered. Now, do you want to hear about your family or not?”
“Of course.”
I follow him into the small kitchen, and I swear his muscles grow as we walk across the room because he appears even larger in the small, cramped space that really only accommodates one normal sized person.
I watch as he pulls out a can of tomatoes and onions and sets about chopping them expertly with a huge chef’s knife.
I am mesmerized by him, and he removes two glasses from the cupboard and pours us both a glass of wine, tossing the empty bottle in the trash with a wry smile. “You need to restock. Your cupboards are almost empty.”
I shrug, gripping the stem of the glass as if it’s a lifeline.
“I’m waiting until I get paid. I used most of my money on my fares to work.”
“Money is not an object for you, little one.”
He reaches into his back pocket and removes a stack of money, tossing a bundle of dollar bills onto the counter.
“What’s this?”
“Grocery money.”
I stare at the huge pile of notes and gasp, “I can’t take your money.”
“It’s your money.” He shrugs, adding a splash of wine to the pan.
“No, it’s not.”
He beats the ingredients with a wooden spoon, and I stare at his muscles as they flex deliciously.
“Your family is extremely wealthy, Laura. They have been funding your upbringing since you were born. Money has never been an object for you, as I mentioned yesterday. You have attended the best schools, had enough food to eat and clothes when you needed them. Your vacations were paid from the trust fund your grandfather set up and your parent’s house was paid for outright.”
“But why did they have me adopted?”
The tears prickle hot behind my eyes as I struggle to understand that basic fact and Adonis throws me a sympathetic look as he says gruffly, “Because your mom wasn’t strong enough for you.”
“What does that mean?”
I sense something coming that I probably don’t want to hear, and he sets the spoon down and stares at me with sympathetic concern.
