"This," I wave my hand in the air, "me falling into the pond, then us stumbling across this lodge by—" I make air quotes, "'accident'?"
"Would I do that?" He widens his gaze.
"Ha!" I scoff. "I’m not going to answer that question."
"You wound me, Flower." He thumps his chest. "But to put your mind at ease, no I didn't plan any of this. I assume Nonna told the housekeeping team to keep the place ready for guests, as a precaution."
"Hmph," I flatten my lips, "not sure I believe you." I turn back to the omelets, and by the time I have plated them out, along with the toast that I remembered to pop in earlier, he’s already seated. I place his plate in front of him and take my seat at the right of him.
Both of us dig in and start eating. By the time I’m halfway through my food, I’m already full. Which is normal for me. I think I’m hungry, but when I start eating, I find I’m not able to finish everything on my plate. I glance up to find he’s polished off everything. I keep my fork and knife aside while I push my plate toward him. "Here, have it."
"You sure?" He frowns. "You didn’t eat much."
"I can’t eat too much at one sitting," I explain, "but I’ll nibble at something in a few hours."
"So, you literally eat like a rabbit?" He laughs.
"Hopefully, my diet’s more varied than a rabbit’s." I sniff. "Go on," I nod toward my plate, "it’s all yours."
He digs in and seems to inhale everything on my plate, then sits back with a sigh. "That was delicious."
"You sound surprised."
"Thought you doctors were too busy studying and interning to learn how to cook."
I tilt my head. "I did study a lot to qualify. Also, because I was away from home, I began to miss home-cooked food. Apparently, as much as I wanted to be away, the food was one thing I couldn’t turn my back on."
"So, you learned to cook?"
"It’s also a great stress buster." I play with my napkin, then crumple it. "When things got too hectic and I felt overwhelmed with the magnitude of what I had set out to do, I turned to cooking." I glance at him. "And you? What do you do for relieving stress?"
"You mean when I’m not killing people?"
I stare at him.
"Just kidding." He chuckles. "I haven’t been involved with the enforcing side of the Mafia world for a long time. My specialty is interpreting the law; I am the Consigliere for the clans."
"But you have been involved with … killing people, in the past?"
He straightens his spine. "If you are asking me if I have killed men, then the answer is yes."
I glance away. What did I expect him to say? That he hadn't been involved with taking lives? How naive can I be?
"I am part of the Mafia, Flower," he says in a soft voice as if he’s read my mind. "It’s part of what I am, to take lives if needed."
"And it’s part of who I am to save lives." I tip up my chin. "Guess the two of us really are on opposite sides of the spectrum." I rise to my feet, then reach over to collect his plate, but he stops me.
"There’s one place where we do meet."
"You mean the sex?"
"I mean in bed. Where we can forget that we come from two very different positions in life. Where you don’t have to bring the weight of your expectations, of the path you have set yourself. Where you don’t need to do anything but give yourself up to me."
"You mean to submit to you, don’t you?"
"What you don’t realize is that the person who submits holds the power."
I snort. "A likely story."