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“An eggplant pasta followed by beef Wellington and my famous orange salad.”
“Sounds interesting,” I said. I watched him prepare the meal, over his shoulder. “Who taught you how to cook?”
“I’m self-taught. After I left home, I had to fend for myself. I used to just eat at restaurants, but it became repetitive. I figured I could make the same meals myself, and I liked cooking.”
“Do you entertain women often?”
“Only ones I like.”
We sat down to dinner, and I couldn’t believe what an amazing chef he was. I’d never eaten so much food in my life. Everything was delicious, almost as good as Rosa’s. I complimented him, and he only laughed as he loaded the state-of-the-art dishwasher.
“And for dessert,” he said, opening the fridge, “we have a trifle I put together.”
My mouth watered as he scooped the fruit trifle into a bowl. The trifle was just as delicious as the meal. “You are certainly talented, Mr. Carlton.”
“Well, thank you.”
“How is your boat in Monaco?”
“Excellent. Come visit anytime.”
“And where is your homebase?” I asked, putting a spoonful of trifle in my mouth.
“I guess I’d say Texas, though I still have my place in Monaco. My sister, Helen, and her husband spend time there and take advantage of my boat. At least she gets put to use.”
“I hate Monaco.”
“I know.”
“That life just isn’t for me. I’m quite happy hanging around the house or sitting on the beach.” I paused, but he seemed genuinely interested. So I went on, “What I miss most about Cortese is getting together with all my old friends and having a friendly game of football. Or driving to the beach for a swim in the ocean. I’m not interested in parties with famous people, or gambling. I hate dressing up in expensive gowns and having makeup all over my face. I just like my jeans and a T-shirt.”
“You’re low maintenance; that’s what I like about you, Luna. Does Devin appreciate it?”
I knew I should steer the conversation away from my relationship, but I was sated and content and not on my guard. “I’m certain some days Devin thinks I’m boring. I just don’t enjoy clubs, and when we go, I rarely have fun. There are always girls trying to get his attention and usually they do. It doesn’t really bother me because he comes home with me, but he’s never looked at me that way.”
“I hate to defend him,” Blake said, shaking his head, “but he only sees them as slabs of meat. He doesn’t really want them; he just likes to look. It’s like window-shopping. I know he sees you differently. At least I think he does.”
“I suppose so.”
Our conversation paused while he made espresso, neither of us wanting to shout over the machine’s roar.
“So you don’t like Monaco. Where would your ideal place be to live?” Blake asked, handing me my drink.
“I have a few places I’d like to live. The first would probably be Montreal, but I think I would miss my family too much. It was really hard living those four years away from home. So maybe Southern California. I don’t think I could live in Cortese again. It’s too small, and I’ve been away for too long.”
“I love big cities. I’d like to move back to the States and maybe settle down in New York. I can’t imagine living back in Dallas full time. Too many memories, and I like to have a clean slate. Besides, I’m not sure I want to be that close to my father.”
“But if you join Perez, where will you live?”
“London, Montreal, Southern California, wherever I’m wanted,” he said, sipping his espresso.
“I have a better view of the Thames,” I said, walking out onto Blake’s balcony. He followed me, and we stared out into the illuminated night.
“I know.”
I arched a brow. “How do you know?”
“I was in your flat.”
