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Satisfied, she went back in search of the kitchen where the sound of clambering pots and pans came from.
When she entered inside, she was willing to bet her entire life savings that he had noticed her without necessarily having to turn back as if the man was aware of his environment twenty-four-seven.
Watching him prepare breakfast had to be the highlight of her morning. He worked the kitchen like he’d worked on her body last night, dominating at every chance he got; precise, steady, and firm, like the man he truly was—in control.
His muscles flexed as he turned waffles on two plates and filled two glasses with what appeared to be freshly squeezed orange juice. Judging by the orange peels on the counter and seeds gathered on one spot, it wasn’t a far guess that he squeezed the oranges himself.
Just then, a memory flashed by. His hands on her breasts, journeying higher and squeezing firmly like he’d wanted to milk her.
Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she fanned them.
“Come, sit down,” he ordered gently.
That was another thing she’d noticed about him: his authoritative element, always wanting to be in charge. It didn’t matter how nice he seemed; there was this coldness that hovered around him, that sought to do things his way only. She’d observed it from the moment he and his men stepped into the club to the second he kissed her on his bed.
“Thank you,” she mumbled quietly as she hopped on one of the stools, looking everywhere else but at him. She wassuddenly too shy to stare at him or hold his gaze. She feared that if she did, she’d be sucked back into the moments of the previous.
He eyed her, but she avoided his stony stare as they dug into breakfast quietly.
With every bite on her waffle, she’d spare him a glance as if expecting him to make small talk. But the more the seconds passed by, the sooner she realized he wasn’t that type of one-night stand. It was even a miracle that they’d gone past the awkward morning phase, and he’d skipped right on to making breakfast.
“This is super delicious,” she moaned the minute the blend of waffle and syrup hit her tongue. She caught his gaze flicker to her lips and move back up her face. “Thank you so much for breakfast.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” he answered over his glass of orange juice.
She blushed. “Too bad I can’t stay long. I have to get to work soon. I’m desperately trying to keep this job by impressing my new bosses. We can’t have them firing me on my second day of work, now, right? That would be absurd.”
“Yeah,” he smiled, dropped his glass, and folded his arms atop the table. “That’s why you’ll resign.”
The waffle went down the wrong way, and Zia choked and sputtered until her eyes stung with hot, blinding tears. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
She saw his brows lift and his expression remain stoic, unmoving. He lifted his shoulders and let them drop nonchalantly, blue eyes holding hers with no emotion.
“You heard me, Zia. You are not going back to work.”
This had to be a joke. A big fucking joke,right?
She thought she’d woken up in a fairytale land but had to be disappointed that she’d accidentally fallen down the nightmare hole. The stranger she’d been gushing about only minutes ago had, indeed, turned out to be a psychopath.
Her heart raced, and the waffles tasted like sand in her mouth. At least one person had to be rational. She chose to be that person. Time to bring out the rational card and attempt to find out whyhewas acting mad?
She gulped and dropped the half-eaten waffle on her plate.
“So, let’s say I’m considering not going to work like you’ve said. Can I know what your reasons are?”
“Oh, that.” He leaned forward and, suddenly, wore the brightest smile ever. Even his eyes twinkled. “It’s because we are getting married.”
Zia felt her heartbeat stop like a speeding train braking on the tracks.
It was official.
Lev Nikolai had gone mad.
Chapter 5 - Zia
“Getting married?Are you nuts?”
He was.
