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Whatever curiosity I had about Lucian’s mysterious room vanished when we entered the kitchen. It was beautiful. Not merely expensive. Beautiful.
A massive island dominated the center. The counters looked like marble, the range had more burners than any one household could possibly need, and two wall ovens sat beside a refrigerator large enough to feed half of La Cruzona.
I opened the refrigerator and found shelves stocked with vegetables, fruit, meat, cheese, eggs, cream, butter, and juice.
The first cabinet held flour and several kinds of sugar. Another was packed with spices, while the one beside it contained baking chocolate, extracts, nuts, and dried fruit. A third held cake pans, pie dishes, mixing bowls, and all sorts of other cooking gadgets.
“Oh.”
Lachlan leaned against the island.
“That sounded serious.”
“My God.”
“Should I be jealous?”
I turned toward him.
“Do you know what you have in here?”
“Food?”
“You have three kinds of flour.”
“Aria.”
“You have vanilla beans.”
“Still Aria.”
“Good chocolate.”
“Mouse, I barely know how to operate the coffee machine.”
“You own this kitchen and you don’t cook?”
“I make toast.”
“That is not cooking.”
“It requires heat.”
“That’s your defense?”
“Aye.”
I shook my head.
“This is tragic.”
“Feel free to save me.”
“I might.”
“Cook whatever you like. Bake whatever you like. If something’s missing, order it.”
I ran my hand over the smooth counter.
