“Alone.”
Garrett gave me a full-on smile. “Damn, you take out all the fun.”
This man could take me very easily. This was becoming a dangerous situation, not that I thought being with Mr. Beacon would be safe, but this was danger on another level. Mr. Beacon was not attractive at all. Garrett whatever-his-last-name-was hit the hot-o-meter to the point it broke the scale.
Keeping my mind in check was going to be a problem, but I could do it. No, I would do it.
“You can go now.” I dismissed him, thinking I needed to prepare for another round of arguments that I might possibly lose like the finalized sleeping arrangements.
Only he surprised me saying, “Dinner’s in two hours. Meet me out on the beach.” He turned around and shut the door behind him.
I wasn’t sure what to feel. There were so many emotions running around me, and this day had been exhausting.
One thing was for sure, that tub was calling my name, and I hoped it would do all that relaxation stuff I’d seen on television.
Only one way to know—dive in.
4
Garrett
For a moment, I thought about going back into the bathroom, stripping down, and climbing in the bath with her.
Except, I made a critical error earlier.
I gave her my name.
Even though I knew better, I gave her a piece of the truth. When the day would come ahead and she would cry out her pleasure, I wanted my name to be on her plump lips.
Consequences be damned.
I knew what her deal was with Beacon. I was privy to every line of the commitment only because I dug deep to find it all. The shit would never hold up in court. There wasn’t a damn thing about it that was legal. Which was how I was going to turn all of this around to my benefit.
Selfish fucker with too much money? Why yes, that would be me described to a perfect T.
The thing was Charles Beacon was a narcissistic prick who needed to be taught a lesson, an expensive and painful one.
Since he decided to involve my family, I felt it my duty to be the one to deliver this lesson to him.
No amount of money would buy loyalty.
No amount of money would buy happiness.
No amount of money gave anyone the right to own someone else.
Period.
Now did I plan to share any of this with Enissa?
Not a chance.
Desperation landed her here, and she needed to learn a lesson herself too. No amount of struggle was worth signing your life away. A lesson I planned to teach her personally, but not in the ways she had created in her mind. While I imagined her judgment was clouded in fear, grief, and love for her mother, she needed to learn where to draw lines. I had to admit I admired the woman for her loyalty. There were few willing to give up their life, their body, and everything they knew to be normal all to secure better healthcare for their dying mother. It was commendable.
The moment my eyes landed on her, well, let’s just say some parts of my plan changed in an instant. That was one of those things for me to know and her to, well, find out. Later. Much later.
To occupy my mind from the woman upstairs who was most likely naked at this point, I decided to go in the kitchen. Daydreaming of running my hands over her curves wasn’t getting me anywhere. I had a teacher once, Ms. McDowell, who sent a note home once that I had a problem daydreaming. Ha! I didn’t find my fantasies to be a problem at all. Especially because I was a driven man. The kind of man who would make every fantasy become a reality. All in due time, that was.
I could be a patient man.
A taste of her was in my future.
I would wait for it because I simply knew that taste would be worth it.
The house had a chef’s kitchen that Ellen Sue made sure was stocked before she departed back to Dane’s home. That was our life, Ellen Sue handling our homes on a rotation, adjusting as necessary. Thankfully, Ellen Sue swore her roots were set with us boys and not in a single location. She kept every home we frequented stocked to the brim with all our individual favorites.
I took some chicken from the freezer earlier to thaw out, knowing that she would be hungry and wanting to feed her my favorite dish. Moving it from the fridge to the island, I let it sit out while I gathered the rest of my ingredients.
Yeah, I was that man, the kind who could be wooed with food. I knew my way around a kitchen and wasn’t shy about it. I loved food, good food, so I made sure I could provide it.
From the pantry, I grabbed olive oil, Panko breadcrumbs, flour, basil, and a fresh garlic clove. In the fridge I snagged tomatoes, onions, parmesan cheese, eggs, and fresh mozzarella balls.
From the cabinets under the island, I pulled out the stockpot and began to fill it with the jarred sauce Ellen Sue made last week using the same recipe my grandmother used to make traditional red sauce. Thankfully Ellen Sue knew how to can things, so she regularly made batches in bulk to store for me. In all the years I’d had this home, never once before had I used a single thing in this kitchen, until tonight. While the sauce heated, I chopped the onion and garlic and set the oven to preheat.
Next, I slid the chicken breasts one at a time in a plastic freezer bag and pounded them with a meat mallet to an even thickness. Cooking soothed something deep inside of me. I could lose myself in a kitchen making meals. It always took me back to the happier times in my life.
A smirk built on my lips as I whisked the eggs in a separate bowl, thinking about the memories of my grandmother teaching me to cook as a young boy. I loved to mix eggs. Sometimes I dropped shells in the bowl, and Grams would dig the small white pieces out with a smile on her face. I could still picture it today.
All of my memories, she would have me in the kitchen beside her. I was blessed with a few pictures where she had lifted me on the counter in her kitchen as a toddler to stir something. While I didn’t remember everything, the fondest of my memories came from cooking with her. Thankfully, she made recipe cards and left them in a safety deposit box at the bank for me to retrieve when I was older. That safety deposit box was all I had left after she was gone.
Ellen Sue had digital copies of every single one. The originals were in the safe at my office because I hoped to one day pass them on to my kids.
I mixed the Panko and parmesan together in a bowl. Then I began to lay each piece of chicken out to sift the flour over the meat before dredging each piece in the egg wash and then into the breadcrumbs and cheese.
With a skillet out, I heated some olive oil and added the chopped garlic and onions. Smelling the food permeating the air around me, I kept at my tasks. Once the garlic and onion were softening, I added the chicken breasts to the skillet. Cooking the chicken to golden on each side, my stomach growled as my hunger grew.
Once the chicken was basically seared, I pulled out the baking dish. Layering each chicken breast in the dish over a cup of the tomato sauce with fresh basil and parsley along with cubes I cut of the mozzarella balls, I set it all up. Sprinkling the top with parmesan cheese and olive oil, I drizzled just a little more of the sauce before popping the dish in the oven. I didn’t make the pasta I normally would with this dish since I wasn’t sure Enissa would want something heavy on her stomach after her travels.
While dinner baked, I set the tray with our plates, wine glasses, and silverware. From there I carried it down to the terrace where the table was. Once everything was in place, I made my way upstairs with a perfect glass of wine.