Aria’s eyes fluttered open and the look in them sucked the breath cleanly out of my lungs. I wasn’t sure why, but I didn’t like it. This time, I managed not to run my fingers through the golden halo on the pillow.
“I won’t make you wait for months,” Aria whispered, sounding exhausted. She closed her eyes again, looking like a sleeping queen as she did. I swallowed, unsure what to do to make her happy in this marriage, unsure if I should try.
I lay down beside her, listening to her breathing that had already evened out in sleep.
I knew I wouldn’t fall asleep anytime soon.CHAPTER 11I woke before sunrise after less than two hours of sleep with my arm around Aria. For a few moments, I stayed like that, enjoying that she was relaxed in my embrace in sleep. Finally, I pulled back and reached for my cell on the nightstand. I quickly typed a message to Matteo, telling him that he’d have to talk to the manager of one of our whorehouses alone, then I wrote Romero. He wouldn’t have to guard Aria today.
“Business?” Aria asked in a sleepy voice.
I glanced toward her and shook my head. “I cancelled my plans for the day so we can spend some time together and get to know each other.”
Aria blinked, becoming more alert at once. “Really?”
“Really,” I said. Resisting the urge to kiss her, I swung my legs out of bed. “I’ll get ready, and then I’ll think of something we can do today.”
“Okay,” Aria said with a small smile.Thirty minutes later, I was looking into the fridge, trying to figure out what we could make for breakfast.
Marianna had stocked the fridge well, but she wouldn’t come over to cook today. Aria came down the staircase in shorts, showing off those legs. “Can you cook?”
Aria huffed as she headed toward me. “Don’t tell me you’ve never made breakfast for yourself?”
“I usually grab something on my way to work, except on the days when Marianna is here and prepares something for me.” I couldn’t stop checking her out. “I love your legs.”
Aria ignored my comment and peered into the fridge. Her arm touched mine and I had to stare down at her, at the golden crown of her head and the way her nose crinkled in thought.
Aria reached into the fridge, taking out eggs and red peppers. She looked like she knew what she was doing. That made one of us. I stepped back and leaned against the counter to watch her cook, but Aria wouldn’t have it. She raised her eyebrows.
“Won’t you help me? You can chop the peppers. You know how to handle a knife, from what I hear,” she said teasingly.
I snatched a knife and stepped up beside her. Aria gazed up at me. She reached my chest and again a wave of protectiveness washed over me. Aria handed me the pepper and motioned at a wooden board. I’d seen Marianna use it for chopping before. While I cut the peppers, Aria scrambled the eggs, then poured them into a hot pan.
“What happens to these?” I showed her the peppers I’d chopped.
“Shit,” Aria said with a grimace, glancing between the sizzling eggs and the peppers.
“Have you ever cooked?” I asked.
Aria grabbed the peppers and thrust them into the cooking eggs. I doubted they’d get done before the eggs. Leaning against the counter once more, I enjoyed watching Aria trying to unstick the eggs from the pan. Her expression became increasingly frustrated.
“Why don’t you make coffee for us?” she asked with a pointed look.
She was really cute when she was trying to look angry.
I humored her and went over to the coffee maker while Aria muttered curses under her breath, trying to save the eggs.
When I finally put two cups of coffee down on the bar, Aria spooned the burnt mess of eggs down on two plates. I could stomach a lot, but this would be a new challenge. I sank down on a barstool and Aria climbed on the one beside me, watching me expectantly. Despite the burnt smell wafting up to my nose, I picked up the fork and shoved a piece of the eggs into my mouth. It was by far the worst omelet I’d ever had. Aria took a bite as well and scrunched up her face, then spit the eggs out immediately before drinking a large gulp of the coffee. She looked at me with watery eyes. “Oh my god, that’s disgusting.”
“Maybe we should go out for breakfast,” I suggested. I had a feeling that if Aria tried to cook us something else, we’d either get food poisoning or she’d burn down the penthouse.
Embarrassment flashed across Aria’s face as she glared down at her coffee. “How hard can it be to make an omelet?”
My chest vibrated with suppressed laughter, but it died when my eyes dipped down to Aria’s bare legs. We were sitting close enough to touch and, gauging her reaction, I put my palm down on her knee. Aria paused with her cup against her lips. She didn’t push me away or flinch, which I took as a good sign. I ran my thumb gently over her skin. “What would you like to do today?”