Page 30 of Pride
Doubt flickered in his expression. He glanced at the half-finished food prep and then shot her a helpless look.
“Don’t tell me cooking is the only thing Parker Lazarus doesn’t know how to do,” she teased.
“Of course I can cook.”
“Right.” What a fibber. The man hadn’t boiled an egg in his life.
She picked up the knife and inspected the situation. Sauce was already made. Gnocchi made. Steak out at room temperature. Grill fired up. It didn’t look too hard. Within moments, Alice had caught up to where Wyatt had left off. Parker offered rather weakly to help cut the vegetables, but she declined, instead giving him the job of turning the steak. He stood by the grill and watched her quietly.
Alice immersed herself in the process, finding it calmed her mind. Until she’d taken this mission, and had to live relatively alone for a few years, she’d not realized how much she enjoyed cooking and baking. Before the Vatican had become embroiled with the Sisterhood, the Sinners did their penance in the abbey kitchen. It was simple work, and it allowed them to provide and care for the nuns who worked at the abbey and kept their secret. The Sinners also worked in the garden and completed other menial tasks to give back to the organization that had given so much to them. After the Vatican had arrived, their penance took on more… aggressive forms.
“You know your way around a kitchen,” Parker remarked.
She wiped the beading sweat from her brow and nodded, but didn’t comment. She didn’t want to think about the life waiting for her back at the abbey right now, and if she explained why she liked cooking, she’d have to. At the abbey, there was no cooking. There were no hobbies, or tv, or indulgence. It was hard work, penance, and prayer.
“You owe me a question,” she said, keeping her eyes on vegetables steaming in a pot.
“What do you want to know?”
“Tell me about the mating bond.” Alice held her breath, hoping that he would, for once, remain open about this, and when he started speaking, she exhaled.
“When we meet a partner who embodies our sin’s opposing virtue, our powers are triggered and we secrete pheromones.”
“That answer doesn’t count. Tell me something I don’t know.” The pheromones were a new discovery. She also hadn’t known they all could use them, but he didn’t need to know that.
He paused, flipped the steak, and stared at it like it was trying to come for him. When he eventually spoke, his voice was tight. “If I have too much exposure to pride, or not enough, my internal sin-balance is out. Usually, we each have a tattoo with ink that shifts according to this balance. But—”
“It was on your missing hand.” She felt a stab of guilt. “I remember that tattoo. Always thought it was odd that you’d have one. Didn’t realize the ink moved. Did you get a replacement?”
“That’s another question.”
She lifted her gaze from the vegetables. “You didn’t, did you?”
He gave a haughty half shrug.
“No matter who you are, the best laid plans can be ruined.” She snorted softly and took the pot off the flame. “So what does this tattoo have to do with me?”
“Uh-uh. That’s another question. My turn,” he said, his lips twitching at the corner.
She pointed a spoon at him, opened her mouth, and then shut it. Damn it, he was right. In fact, he’d half answered a second question of hers.
“Why should I trust you?” he asked, leveling his gaze on her.
She could have answered with any number of reasons, from lies to truths. She could have reminded him that she was his mate, or what they were both fighting for, or said something personal about Mary’s history with the Sisterhood, but in the end, she settled for the truth. “Because I trust you.”
“So tell me why the Sisterhood is of value to us.”
“You can save that question for when it’s your turn.” If she told him now, then she played all her cards. He might not believe her, anyway. While she pondered over her reply, she drained the vegetables and dished up the meals. They weren’t presented the way Wyatt might have done, but the food was edible. Her stomach rumbled.
“Let’s eat,” she said, and carried the plates out to the dining room, wincing at the tug in her leg. She’d stood in one spot for too long while cooking, and now her body protested.
They ate in silence. Well, Alice did. The gnocchi was delicious. Parker stared at his plate and picked at the vegetables. For a while Alice thought perhaps she’d actually ordered the wrong thing, but had seen him choose the fillet steak many times during business meetings.
Then she realized he couldn’t cut the steak with only one hand, and he was too stubborn to ask for help. If she reached over and completed the task for him, he would most likely refuse. It was time to be the bigger person.
“Do you believe in Hell, Parker?” she asked after she swallowed.
His gaze lifted. “What does Hell have to do with anything?”
