Blame it on the Champagne (Blame it on the Alcohol #1) - Fiona Cole Page 0,81
he asked with a smirk.
I swallowed and shook my head, striving for an annoyance but failing when I couldn’t even open my mouth in fear that I’d end up begging him to let me join him.
“Fair enough.” He picked up the phone and dialed to order. “Banana pancakes and bacon, extra crispy, right?”
I nodded, surprised he remembered how I like my breakfast. I might have mentioned it in passing. He had meals delivered, and I’d cringed at the blueberry pancakes one morning, briefly mentioning banana pancakes were the only way to go.
And he remembered. He listened. I hadn’t even thought he heard me.
“H-how did you know?”
He rolled his eyes but smirked. “Banana pancakes are my second favorite pancake, and the smell of burnt bacon has lingered in the apartment for almost a week. It’s hard to forget.”
I didn’t know why him noticing hit me so hard, but I zoned out, remembering that my father didn’t even remember I only liked banana pancakes. A drop of heat, unlike the heat that spread like wildfire at seeing him naked, spread like a drop of food coloring in an ocean. It barely changed the color—barely noticeable—but it did change things.
Uncomfortable with the feeling, I shook my head, carefully edging my way out of bed to grab my robe. Last night, I’d wanted to torture him in my nightgown, but with the sun lighting up the entire room, I may as well have been naked.
“Feel free to join me,” he offered darkly, walking past.
This time, I managed to work up a weak glare. One side of his lips kicked up as he stretched his arms above his head. Watching Nico stretch in the morning should have been its own specific fetish tab on Pornhub.
A thin scar caught my eye above his Adonis belt on his left side. Before I could ask, he turned to go, and I shrugged into a thick robe and nabbed my phone, heading to the dining room.
Raelynn: Did you fuck him? Tell me you fucked him all over that suite.
Nova: How was your night? Did you survive?
Raelynn: Yeah. Did you survive? Or did you have death by orgasms? Please say death by orgasms.
Nova: Jesus, Raelynn.
Raelynn: Don’t act like you’re not curious.
Nova: I mean, I am, but we can be a little less direct.
Raelynn: Nah. Not my style.
Raelynn: Sooo…
Nova: …
Raelynn: Okay, okay. It’s still pretty early. I’ll wait and hope you’re having epic morning sex.
Nova: Just message us to let us know you’re alive.
Raelynn: Also, message us so I can tell you about how Nova went Instagram live with PARKER FREAKING CALLAN from her fav band.
Nova: I hate you so much.
Raelynn: Naughty Nova came out to dance after too many Vodka Gimlets last night, and he was doing an Instagram Live, inviting fans to join him and talk. I maaaaaay have requested to join under her name, and he maaaaaay have accepted, and I maaaaaay have shown her shaking her ass while she rapped out Missy Elliot.
Nova: Seriously…the worst friend ever.
Raelynn: You’re spelling best friend wrong.
I laughed, looking over their exchange this morning, wanting to FaceTime them and hear all about what happened.
“What’s so funny?”
Nico walked in, sweatpants back in place, his hair damp and pushed back carelessly, somehow still looking perfect.
“Just the girls.”
“Tell them I said hi.”
“Umm…okay?”
“What?” he asked.
“Why?”
“Well, they’re your friends. You’re my wife. Your friends are important to you, so it’s in my best interest to be friendly with them.”
“Oh…well, thank you.”
He nodded and almost sat down when a knock at the door announced our food.
They rolled the carts in, placing the silver domes on the long table so quickly and quietly, it was like they weren’t even there.
Again, I found myself wondering about the kind of money Nico had. My family did well, but we didn’t stay in penthouse suites of one of the top hotels in New York. We didn’t have silent butlers deliver our food in a way only an obscene amount of money could buy. I’d done research on his company, and it had barely dipped their toe into international shipping, but his wealth screamed worldwide success.
He poured himself a cup of coffee—no cream or sugar—and sat down, pushing a plate of pancakes and bacon my way.
“So, do you have any friends I should be friendly with?”
He chewed his bacon and watched me, thinking over his answer. I was having a moment on our first day of marriage, realizing that I still knew so little about him.