Dark Descent into Desire - J. J. Sorel Page 0,36

sounds a little bossy.”

“I don’t like sharing.” I tilted my head.

Her face smoothed, and a little smile touched her pouty lips. “I don’t mind sharing food or money… but… not you.”

I relaxed into her arms, reminding myself again that this was just an infatuation. But then, how can one lie with a beautiful woman like Penelope and not become addicted?

I wondered if it was my money that had attracted her. What would I seem like without it? The mirror only ever revealed the actor to me—a man of the world with expensive tastes. Occasionally, on bad days, I caught a glimpse of that wild child from the moors.

Although that unwashed boy still inhabited my soul, I’d spent years cultivating this new me, ridding myself of my northern accent by adopting a posh accent. Sometimes I even heard Sir William’s deep timbre exiting my lips.

When it came to sophistication, I’d learned from the best.

22

* * *

PENELOPE

HAVING NEVER TASTED anything so delicious, I savored the mouthwatering pasta, my tummy receiving it with hungry approval.

While Maria arranged before us plates of the yummiest Italian food I’d ever tasted, I continued to process her initial wide-eyed surprise at meeting me.

When Blake left the room to take a call, she whispered that I was the first woman he’d ever invited into his home during her eight years there.

“Really?” I asked.

Wearing an apron tied around her waist, she placed her hands on her hips. “He’s a great man. Generous. He saved me you know.”

Blake returned, and she looked up at him with a smile and then continued to move about the kitchen.

She stood at a coffee machine similar to the ones found in cafés. “Coffee?”

He shook his head and looked at me.

“I’m good,” I answered. “This pasta’s incredible.”

Blake regarded Maria warmly. “So, what were you two whispering about?”

I looked up at Maria. Because of the way she’d stopped short when Blake returned, I wasn’t sure how to respond.

“I was just telling Penelope that she’s the first woman you’ve ever brought into the kitchen.”

Blake sat at the table and poured wine into my glass. He held up the bottle toward Maria. She shook her head, and he continued pouring himself a glass.

He looked at me. “I don’t normally entertain.”

I smiled tightly at that abridged response.

“When did you move to England?” I asked Maria, who sipped coffee from a tiny cup.

“Nine years ago. I came here for a holiday with my husband, who I escaped from because he always hit me.” She looked over at Blake, before continuing, “Signore Blake saved me. He gave me a beautiful job, and I have a beautiful life because of him.” She came over and kissed him on the cheek.

Blake tapped her hand affectionately, giving me an insight into their closeness. It warmed me to see that, because in the little time I’d spent with Blake, I sensed he was a loner, although not in a sad way. I imagined he had enough power and charm to attract a crowd.

“Maria, please. I think Penelope’s heard enough.”

She looked at me. “I hope to see you again, bella.” I was about to remind her of my name, when she added, “If there’s anything, just let me know. I’m off to watch Fast and Furious.” She laughed. “I like big sexy muscle men saving the world. Don’t you?”

I giggled. “If I were in trouble, I suppose they’d come in handy.”

Blake squeezed my hand and looked at me with a glint of humor in his eyes.

“Ciao,” said Maria.

“She’s great,” I said to Blake. “Only she called me ‘Bella.’”

“That’s ‘beautiful’ in Italian.” His eyes smiled, and he looked the most relaxed I’d ever seen him.

Maybe having me around his domestic life had lifted that shroud he clutched onto. Or perhaps I read too much into it.

Blake leaned back and sipped his wine, watching me polish off the best pasta I’d ever had in my life. I looked up, and he smiled at me. It was so nice. He even looked boyish and sweet. I wanted to squeeze his cheek.

“What?” I smiled back.

He leaned over and brushed my cheek. “You’ve got a little sauce on your face. I like that you enjoy eating.”

“It’s hard not to. Maria’s an amazing cook. Is this how you eat all the time?”

“Sometimes. Depends.” He sat back with wine in hand, again making his answers short on details, like where he liked to eat or what his favorite food was. “Maria has made me healthier. She uses a lot of vegetables and herbs

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