Mafia Princess by Kennedy Slope

Chapter Eighteen

“Shit,” I muttered as the oven alarm started going off. I rushed towards the double oven to grab the meatloaf I had prepared before it could burn. “Shit, shit, shit.” I muttered, as I grabbed the pan out of the oven.

My potatoes were boiling over, and I was cursing the fact that I hadn’t just ordered takeout.

“What the hell is going on?” Dom rushed into the kitchen with a worried look on his face.

“You aren’t supposed to be home yet!” I hollered dropping the meatloaf pan on the counter with a large clang. Everything in Dom’s kitchen was state of the art, expensive, and heavy as hell.

Dom’s eyes were everywhere at once, and I knew that he was wondering what the hell I was trying to do to his kitchen.

I grabbed the pot of potatoes off of the stove, and immediately felt myself weighed down.

“Here,” Dom said. “Let me help you.”

He grabbed the pot out of my hands. “Where’s this going?”

“To the strainer in the sink.” I pointed to the strainer, and he immediately walked over and dumped the water out. I couldn’t help but admire the way his forearms bulged at the action.

Dom had been working from home during my recovery, and I was always blown away by how he managed to make a jeans and t-shirt look just as good as a full suit. It was unfair.

“Now,” he asked, as he sat the hot pot back on the stove, “you want to tell me what all of this is?”

I blushed and shifted back and forth. “I thought that I would make dinner tonight?” Saying it aloud made me feel silly.

“Is Giovanna sick?” Dom asked. He was leaning against the kitchen island, and he looked incredibly handsome doing so.

“She’s fine.” I started mashing up the potatoes, which took a considerable amount of strength. I was still recovering from my surgery, but I had a lot more strength than I previously did. “Who knew that this was so hard?” I muttered to myself. I had never cooked in my life, but I had spent a lot of time watching the cooking network, and I was sure that I could make a basic dinner.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m cooking,” I said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Dom raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“Why, though?”

I chuckled as I added the butter and cream to my potatoes. I prayed that they would taste alright.

“I wanted to thank you for all that you’ve done,” I told Dom.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said. He crossed his forearms as he watched me maneuver around the kitchen.

“There’s no need to thank me,” he said.

I chuckled as I grabbed plates. “You’ve basically been waiting on me hand and foot over the past few weeks.”

It was more than I had expected. I thought that when my wounds started to heal I would be on my own. Dom had done a great deal for me, so I couldn’t be too angry about it. But that hadn’t been the case. I’d struggled when we first got home, and Dom had stayed by my side. He staved off the nightmares.

Not that he would admit that he’d gone above and beyond for me. Dom wasn’t the type of man who would show weakness, and I knew that he viewed caring about me as some sort of weakness.

“Plus, I wanted to thank you for not putting up too much of a fight when I told you that I wanted to return to school,” I said.

I watched as Dom grimaced. He wasn’t happy about the fact that I would be returning to school tomorrow. It was the only time we had argued recently. He was convinced that I could only be safe in the house, and while I was still incredibly nervous that someone out there was gunning for me, I wasn’t going to sit in the house and hide. I had worked hard to get into school, and I wasn’t going to allow some masked killer to take that from me.

“Marco is going to be shadowing you,” Dom said.

I rolled my eyes. My days of freedom were over. Dom made it clear that if I wanted to attend school, his brother would be escorting me around.

“I’m sure he loves that,” I said, grabbing the plates. Dom walked forward to help me but I shooed him off. I was determined to serve him dinner. It felt oddly domestic, and I secretly loved it.

“He’ll do what I tell him too,” Dom muttered as he followed behind me.

I grimaced. Dom’s attitude towards this whole situation was not going to do me any favors with his men. Though Dom and I had created an unspoken treaty, I was sure that his men had not agreed to it.

But tonight wasn’t about all of that. I was determined that we would have a nice, normal evening.

“Bon Appetit!” I laid the plates down on the table with a flourish before turning to Dom.

He had a soft smile on his face, and I couldn’t stop the blush from filling my cheeks. For the past two weeks, I had been unable to think of anything more than Dom and his body. I wanted him, but he hadn’t made a single move since that first night home, and I’d been gravely disappointed.

I’d always thought I wanted the perfect gentleman, but it turns out I wasn’t necessarily interested in that.

“What is this?” Dom asked.

“It’s meatloaf,” I told him. I scooped a piece of the meat onto my fork. I wasn’t sure what you liked, and this recipe had good reviews.”

Dom raised a brow, but he scooped the meat and potatoes onto his fork. I waited with baited breath as he placed the fork in his mouth.

“Is it good?” I asked.

Dom nodded, but I noticed that his jaw was tense, and he was barely chewing.

I dropped my fork in resignation. “It’s terrible, isn’t it?” I asked.

Dom shook his head, and I watched his Adam apple bob as he swallowed. “It’s great,” he said.

I pursed my lips at the obvious lie and brought the meat to my mouth.

“Don’t,” Dom said. His hand reached out and wrapped itself around my wrist.

“So it is bad.”

“I think you mixed salt and sugar together.”

“Ugh!” I placed my head in my hands. “I tried so hard. I can’t believe I mixed up sugar and salt. How stupid am I?”

I genuinely felt terrible. I had wanted to do something nice for Dom. I wanted to repay him for saving my life, and considering that I didn’t have any money that he didn’t give to me, I thought that cooking was something that I could do for him.

Dom shook his head. The hand that was around my wrist loosened, and I felt his thumb soothing my pulse point.

“It was a nice gesture,” he told me. His voice was low and his eyes were dark as he looked at me. I clenched my thighs together under the table, as I felt myself beginning to pulse with desire.

Leaning in, I was practically begging Dom to kiss me, and as his eyes zoomed on my lips, I was sure that he was finally going to do it.

Unfortunately, I was wrong. Before I could do anything, Dom dropped my wrist and scooted back further in his chair and away from me. The move was abrupt, and it took a few seconds for me to recover.

“We should order some Chinese,” Dom said, as he stood up.

I nodded. I was too embarrassed to say anything.

“Sounds good.” I grabbed the plates. “I’m going to clean up.”

Dom said nothing, and I was glad for it. My embarrassment was displayed hotly across my cheeks. I had wanted him to kiss me. I had wanted a lot more than that. But for some reason Dom no longer wanted me. I should have been happy that he wasn’t interested in me. The last time we had sex hadn’t been great. He’d left me feeling used and disgusted with myself, and while things had changed between the two of us, they hadn’t changed that much.

Standing in the kitchen, I decided that I would be happy with my lot in life. My husband might not want me, but we were able to be friends. That was more than most people, including my parents ever had.

This was a much better fate than the one I thought I would be getting. That’s what I reminded myself as I blinked back my tears.