“I hope you don’t mind, but I want to spoil you,” Masen said.
“I’m cooking for you for dinner. A family recipe, that I hope you like, Bella.”
“Are we going to your place?” I asked. He blushed, nodding with
a crooked grin. “Awfully presumptuous, Masen. Are you going to take advantage
of me?”
“Never, cherie,” he
said, shaking his head emphatically. “You just take care of everyone. I want to
take care of you.” He held up his hand, squeezing my fingers, which were
threaded with mine. “I promise not to do anything to make you uncomfortable. If
you do, Jake, my driver and one of my good friends, will drive you back to the
bakery.”
“Okay,” I said. “That seems fair. Where do you live?”
“I’m staying in the Gevalian condo at Central Park West,” he
answered. “It’s usually used for visiting dignitaries and diplomats.” We made
our way over the Brooklyn Bridge and soon, we pulled up to a posh building.
Masen got out, helping me to my feet. He spoke briefly to Jake, who nodded and
waved at us before pulling away.
“Where’s he going?” I asked.
“He’s parking the car,” Masen answered, opening the door and
punched in a code to open the inner door. Taking my hand, he threaded our
fingers together. We walked through the sleek lobby and went to the elevators,
riding up to the top floor. Walking out of the car, Masen unlocked the door and
gestured for me to enter. I bit my lip, holding my bouquet to my chest. The
condo was gorgeous, decorated elegantly and was easily three times the size of
the bakery. “Bella, don’t be timid.”
“I … this place is so nice,” I said, trying not to put myself
down.
“With you in it, it is,” he said, tugging on my hand and pulling
me into the condo. “Would you like something to drink? Wine? Water? Soda?
Tequila?”
“Water, for now,” I giggled.
“Can I take your jacket?” he asked. I nodded and wriggled out of
the leather jacket. He slid off his own jacket, putting them both into a
closet. He took my hand, guiding me to a beautiful kitchen. He helped me onto a
stool. He put a glass of water in front of me, along with some appetizers,
expensive cheeses, various meats, olives, crackers and crusty bread. “I hope
you’re aren’t a vegetarian.”
“No, I like meat,” I answered. “Why?”
“I’m making boeuf
bourguignon. It was a favorite of mine when I was a kid,” he smiled,
checking whatever was simmering on the stove. It filled the condo and it
smelled delicious. “I started it earlier today since it needed to cook through.
I just need to make the side dish since I wanted to ask you if you preferred
potatoes or pasta.”
“What did you like when you were a kid?” I asked.
“It should be potatoes, but I’m partial to pasta,” he answered.
“Then, let’s do that,” I smiled, sipping my water and making a
plate for myself. Masen beamed, working easily in the kitchen and boiling the
water for the pasta. He also opened up a bottle of red wine, saying it needed
to breathe. “Did you work today?”
“I had meetings in the morning but had the afternoon free to get
ready for our date,” he answered, a crooked grin spreading over his perfect
features. “How was your day? Who was that tall woman, with the glasses?”
“That’s Angela,” I answered. “I told you about her. After
talking to you, I reached out to her. You made me realize that I can’t do this
on my own.” I blushed, twisting my water. “Thank you for helping me realize it.
Angela is a finance major, helping me in finding ways to consolidate the bills
and my sister has been forced to work at the bakery. My dad had enough of her
bullshit.”
“Good,” Masen nodded, his jaw tight.
Central Park West
Bella
Prince Masen
So Bella still doesn't know who he is? Where are all the people who should be bowing, curtseying, and offering to have his royal love children?
ReplyDeleteMaybe Edward could contact Angela and see if he could help Bella through Angela.
ReplyDelete