Chapter 2 - Temptation in the Kitchen

Adonis Vivaldi

"Look away, Adonis."

Fucking hell. My heart constricted painfully in my chest. My fists clenched in my suit pants as I struggled to maintain my façade. I had gone over our meeting a thiusand times in my head ever since I heard she was returning. Right now, I had forgotten all the lines I had practiced.

She stared at us in surprise, her ethereal brown eyes widening in shock. It seemed Yaskier hadn't informed her of our presence. It took her a few seconds to process the situation. A nervous smile overtook her features.

"Hello," she waved softly, her beautiful voice traveling through my senses again. Composure felt like an increasingly difficult value whenever I thought about her or even looked at her.

How I longed to convey my desire, to show her my passion. To tell her of all the nights I...

"Please come in," she said, kicking Yaskier out of the way and ushering us into the apartment.

I kicked my shoes off at the doorstep before walking in, allowing Sandro to do the same.

I shut the door behind me, watching from the corner of my eye as Yaskier grabbed his sister to the side, both of them talking in hushed tones. It was quite relaxing to see Yaskier so at ease with his twin. He smiled and laughed a lot whenever it came to her.

Sandro and I stood quietly, waiting for them to finish their discussion. Normally, I would have waltzed in and sat down without waiting. After all, I had been here more times than I could remember. But the reason I waited was so she could think of me as a gentleman. I desperately hoped she had forgotten the day we met. For as much as I would argue that it was thrilling, it was a tad embarrassing as well.

From where she stood, I could see the outline of her figure as she placed her arms on her waist, unintentionally raising her dress as she whisper-yelled at her brother. She was even more beautiful than I remembered. Her red hair cascaded over her shoulders down to her waist, wild and untamable, an evident contrast to the ethereal and captivating features of her face.

You are ogling, Adonis.

The sane part of me chided, and I turned away from her. It was at that moment that she bounded towards Sandro and me, apologizing profusely.

"I'm sorry, I must have forgotten to offer you a seat," she said, smiling sheepishly. "Please, sit," she indicated towards the dining area.

Sandro and I walked towards the dining area, pulling out chairs before settling in. Yaskier and Yavannah followed behind.

Yaskier dragged a chair and settled into it while Yavannah disappeared into the kitchen. I sighed softly at her retreating figure.

"What do you think of her?" Yaskier asked inquisitively, glancing between Sandro and I.

Sandro shrugged, indicating that she was okay, and Yaskier nodded before turning to me.

"She is sweet," I replied, toning down my preferred choice of adjectives to the most innocent one.

He stared at me for a few seconds, about to say something, but Yavannah's voice cut him off.

"Yas," she called out hastily, and he turned towards the kitchen. "Come here," she ordered, and he murmured something about his name.

He turned to me, smiling sheepishly. "Help me out," he said, and I quirked my brow at him. "She's only going to yell at me if I go there," he clarified.

I exhaled an audible sigh, hiding the glee in my mind at the thought of being in close proximity to her. I rose from my chair, the legs scraping the floor harshly as the back of my knees hit against it. Pushing the chair away softly, I made my way towards the kitchen, gulping when her figure came into view.

Her round ass protruded softly as she bent to check something in the oven.

Avert your gaze.

If i kept this up, I was sure by the end of today every one would know.

I coughed loudly, and she sighed without turning back.

"Help me with the oven gloves, Yas," she bellowed, pointing towards a pair of green oven gloves at the far end of the kitchen. I walked over, grabbing the oven gloves before handing them to her.

She put on the gloves hastily and reached out to grab the tray out of the oven. The warm and tasty smell of roasted chicken filled my nose as she set the tray on a cooling rack.

"Turn it off," she ordered, reaching out to do something else. I scanned across the oven for a switch before turning it off once it came into view, ignoring the fact that my arm brushed hers.

"Tell me something, yeah?" she began, curiosity blossoming in her voice. "Have I met the taller green-eyed man before?" she asked, arranging the dishes.

"You have," I said.

I stifled a laugh as her eyes darted to me comically. She stuttered to speak but faltered, making me chuckle.

Adorable.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she apologized, sporting an embarrassed blush. "I thought you were Yaskier," she said, scratching her neck sheepishly.

I see where Yaskier got his sheepish look from.

"It's all right, Salvatrice," I assured her, and her head cocked at the endearment.

I chuckled again at her antics, and she smiled even wider.

"Thank you," she said, and I waved her off.

"How can I help?" I asked, and she seemed reluctant to order me around. If only she knew that anything she ordered me to do, I would do without hesitation.

"Tell me," I urged her to speak, and she nodded.

"Can you help me take the dishes to the dining area?" she asked politely.

"Okay then," I replied, and she smiled again.

How lovely she was.

Walking away from her, I balanced the dishes in my arms as she grabbed the plates and serving spoons.

"Off we go," she said, and I followed her closely, ignoring—or rather, forcing myself to ignore—the youthful jiggle of her ass cheeks.