Page 55 of When She Tempts (The Fallen)
Plus, the staff are gone and won’t be back for the night.
It’s perfect.
Keeping my expression carefully guarded, I lift my gaze to him. “I can make something.”
He cocks a thick brow. “You can?”
“Of course.” I rise from my chair. “I used to do a lot of cooking and baking back home. It won’t take me long.”
“All right,” he says easily, and I try my best not to seem too eager as I make my way to the kitchen.
As soon as I’m out of his line of sight, I increase my pace. I don’t have the recipe for the tea, which means I’ll have to improvise. The book didn’t have any specific instructions, just that the two herbs brewed together would do exactly what I need them to do.
I fly toward the cupboard with the herbs and fling the doors open.
Valerian.
Kava.
My fingers freeze midair as I see what’s in the second jar. It looks like…pieces of wood bark? What the hell? I was expecting dried leaves, not this. What am I supposed to do with this?
I whirl around, gnawing on my bottom lip, and just when I start to question if I’m going to be able to pull this off, my gaze catches on an iPad lying on the counter.
Hell yes!
It must be my lucky day, because it’s charged and unlocked. I mutter a thank-you to Tommaso under my breath. He probably uses this when he’s cooking. A few moments later, I’m looking up instructions on how to make kava tea.
Grind the root into powder, pour it into a strainer, then pour hot water over it and let it sit for…forty-five minutes!
Crap. I have to get this going right away or Giorgio will wonder what the hell I’m doing here.
I prep the kava and put aside the valerian. I’m going to brew the latter like a regular tea when everything is nearly done and mix it with the kava.
I decide to makeTorta Caprese, a Neapolitan dessert Giorgio must have tried before. It’s a rich chocolate cake made out of almond flour, eggs, butter, and plenty of dark chocolate. You’d have to be soulless not to enjoy it. All of the ingredients are easy to find, and in no time, I’m mixing up a bowl of batter.
Excitement builds inside of me—a premature and wicked satisfaction at outsmarting Giorgio. Yes, after the things he said to me at dinner, my anger’s lost its edge, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to backtrack or feel guilty about what I’m about to do.
It’s just a bit of fun, right? I wonder what he’ll say when he wakes up and realizes what happened. I think he might be impressed.
And it’ll be nice to have my phone back.
The thought passes through me, but I discover it lacks the weight it had before. I’m actually managing better than I thought I would without it.
A small smile tugs at my lips as I pour the batter into a round dish.
When the cake is in the oven, I return to the dining room and find Giorgio standing by the fireplace. It was unlit when I left, but now a small fire crackles within, filling the space with warmth.
I eye the clock. It’s five past nine, and I need to get the cake out in twenty minutes.
Giorgio angles his head to look at me. “All done?”
“It’s in the oven,” I say, moving until I stand in front of the fireplace beside him.
The flames lick at a few branches, illuminating old stonework. Small patterned tiles are embedded inside the bricks, but they’ve been darkened with soot over time. I sneak a glance at Giorgio and note the severe lines of his profile as he stares into the fire. Polo’s words come back to me.
In truth, I think he hates this place.
Hate is a strong word. Would he really agree to stay here with me if he hated it?
