AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He usually hates women. Most of it stems from his fierce possessiveness over us. It’s astonishing to see him putting makeup on Iris and calling herbeautiful.
“I can’t wait to take you out,” Julian says. “You need to try out more clothes. Experiment with more makeup. Oh! And you’ve got to try out accessories and jewelry.”
Iris looks stricken. “I don’t need anymore,” she says, putting up her hands in surrender. “You’ve bought me enough things to last me a decade. Seriously, Julian. I can’t accept anything more from you.”
I stare at my mate like it’s the first time I’m looking at him. He wants to buy her clothes and jewelry? Did Iris hit him in the head or something?
I’m seriously starting to worry.
“We spent so much time on me already,” Iris says, glancing at the wall clock. “When are we gaming?”
“Fine,” Julian relents, dropping a brush among the pile of makeup. “Let’s go into my den.”
I can feel my brows permanently stuck to the top of my forehead. Julian was inviting her inside his space? He rarely allowedusin there.
I hurry away to the end of the corridor and hide behind another door while they exit the kitchen.
I come out only when they’re gone.
Heading inside the kitchen, I take a look at the makeup stuff that’s littering the table. They all look brand-new.
Picking a few, I sniff them.
They’re not the stuff Julian usually wears.
There’s no doubt in my mind anymore. He’s bought all these products for Iris.
But why?
My stomach suddenly churns, reminding me of the reason I stumbled into the house in the first place. My gut is still protesting the amount of alcohol I drank last night.
I head to the fridge to see if there are any leftovers. There’s rarely anything there since most of our meals come from the trainee mess at dinner time, but I still open the fridge to gamble against my fucked-up luck.
As usual, the thing is filled with fresh produce that is rarely used by us except for the occasions when Julian wants to make a salad. I’m about to close the fridge when something catches my eye on the second shelf.
There’s a rectangular block that’s wrapped in wax paper and cling foil.
I eagerly reach for it and take it out.
Keeping my fingers crossed, I open the package.
The gorgeously-smelling thing looks like a cross between a cake and a thick pancake. Leaning down, I breathe in the scent of apples and cinnamon.
Without wasting time, I take a huge bite.
Funny noises escape me as I chew through the deliciously soft texture. I take more bites, finishing the cake within a matter of minutes.
“Fuck,” I moan, crunching the paper and cling film between my fingers. That was a fucking good meal.
Moving toward the counter, I spot a half-filled carafe of coffee.
Touching the glass, I find it warm.It’ll do, I think, and grab a mug.
It’s only when I’ve consumed coffee that I think about the delicious cake I just ate. Taking my phone out, I re-check the messages Julian sent me an hour ago.
Apple cinnamon sheetcake for breakfast.Julian’s message read. It was accompanied by an image of a slice that was decorated with apples and a generous sprinkle of cinnamon.
I’m sure this wasn’t cooked by Julian.
