Page 24 of His Queen

“And Leandra will approve of this?”

“We don’t have a choice,” he states simply. “As you said, there has to be a Del Rossa presence. Caelian is already on their radar, and we need Isaia working with Maximo on upping our security.” Alexius straightens and fastens his suit jacket. “Until we figure out how Nunzio is getting fed information about us, you and I will be hosting Myth.”

“Great,” I spit out with sarcasm before stomping toward the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To put my balls on ice before I tell my wife about my whereabouts for the next two weeks.”

CHAPTERSEVEN

MIRABELLA

“I wantto cook for you tonight.”

He raises a brow at me. “You? Cook?”

“Yes. Me. Cook.” I slip from under the covers and pull on my robe. “You don’t think I can cook?”

“How would I know that if you’ve never cooked anything in your life?”

I frown at him, pursing my lips. “You don’t remember?”

“See, you’re doing that thing you do when I somehow fucked up without knowing it.”

“What?”

“That.” He points at my mouth, circling his fingers. “You’re pouting.”

“I don’t just pout when I’m upset with you.”

“No. But this pout has that disapproving curve at the corner of your lips.”

“Seriously?” I cross my arms. “You don’t remember?”

“I’m assuming that’s a trick question.”

“I made you scrambled eggs on your fifteenth birthday.”

“Oh, dear God. Yes,” he groans, leaning his head back against the velvet tufted headboard. “I remember a plate of rubber scrambled eggs and burnt toast.”

“If it was that bad, why did you eat it all?”

“Because you were staring at me with those big green eyes filled with so much excitement. You practically sat on my plate, waiting for my reaction. So, I ate it all.”

“Aaw.” I place my palm on my chest. “You ate it all even though it was horrible? Just for me?”

“I did a lot of things just for you, Hummingbird.”

I shoot him a sly smile. “Remind me of that the next time you piss me off. Then, maybe I’ll take pity on you.”

“Talking about pissing you off.”

“Oh, no.” I roll my eyes and open the walk-in closet, heading inside. “What did you do?”

“It’s not so much what I did, but I’m going to do.”

I grab a pair of Gucci denim jeans and slip them on when Nicoli appears by the door, buck-naked and not caring. I can’t help but let my eyes wander over his exceptionally toned body that seems carved from chipped marble, taking in every single curve and dip. He seems to revel in demonstrating his power over me by flaunting what God has blessed him with. He knows precisely what kind of effect he has on me.

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