Falcon by Bex Dane

Author:Bex Dane [Dane, Bex]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Larken Romance
Published: 2019-08-25T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Falcon insisted we fly to Los Angeles early. Rehearsals for the musical adaptation of Aida didn't begin for another week, and yet he booked the flight, rented a mansion in Beverly Hills, and cancelled all excursions until the "security had been optimized."

He said we could manage risks better in a house than a hotel. Gaspar knew the director and had also arranged a role for Thorne. He moved into the Beverly Hills mansion with us.

For the first week, Falcon, Blaze, and Diesel set up their cameras and built a fortress of bulletproof windows and doors.

While they were "optimizing," Thorne and I lounged by the pool. I loved New York. The city hummed with excitement, people walked fast, always in a hurry. The laid back vibe of Hollywood and the relaxing sunshine in California also sat well with me and helped calm my nerves.

The mansion had a music room with a piano, a small platform that acted as a stage, and some recording and audio equipment. My vocal coach met with me once, but most of my time was spent with Thorne. It was a glorious week. I didn't forget my worries, but my body thanked me for the down time and reduced stress.

Falcon worked all day, at least I assumed he was working, but I rarely saw him except for brief moments in the kitchen for meals. He spent his evenings in the gym with one of the guys; I may have spied on him a little. After his shower, he'd join me in bed for sex and sleep. He still did his thing where he got out of the bed and sulked in a chair, but he was returning to me more quickly this week.

Tonight he came into the kitchen as I was flipping my lasagna casserole onto a serving platter.

He stared at it with his eyebrows high. "What's that?"

I had to admit the round pile of baked noodles looked odd on the plate. "It's dome lasagna. Traditional lasagna in a bowl. You serve it upside down."

He looked at me then at the platter again. "You cook?"

"Of course I cook. I'm a regular person just like anyone else. I've always loved lasagna and this recipe makes it special."

The curious look on his face triggered a memory. We'd stopped at an Italian restaurant on the drive to New Jersey when he was eighteen and I was fifteen. I'd been brave and ordered lasagna because the picture looked so delicious. That was when I first fell in love with it. Since then, it'd been my biggest weakness, so I only made it for special occasions like this one, where I was locked up in a house and couldn't go out to eat.

I cut him a piece shaped like a pie. "Try it." The cheese and tomato sauce had blended magically into steaming layers of sin. The decadent smell of baked lasagna filled the kitchen.

He took the plate and fork I offered and brought a bite to his mouth. His eyes widened and he chewed and swallowed with an appreciative smile.

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