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The kitchen has a cutout through to the lounge, so I’m able to keep tabs on her while I turn on the stove. I scour the cupboards for enough plates and cutlery, noting everything she owns is mismatched. As I serve out two portions, I compile another, longer shopping list in my head.

Francesca sits at the table, hands in her lap, eyes vacant.

“You don’t like chicken? I can get you something else.” She shakes her head but still doesn’t pick up her knife and fork. “Does your mother live nearby?”

“When are you leaving?”

“Answer my questions and I’ll answer yours.”

The only response is a wrinkled nose. She returns to staring into space, obviously waiting for this to be over.

Once I’ve finished my meal, I drag my chair next to hers. The meat is so tender, it falls apart with a fork and I lift a mouthful, bumping it against her lips. “Open wide.” She winces and I grow impatient. “It’s food. You’ll like it. Just eat a few bites and I’ll leave you alone.”

Her jaw clenches but her stomach growls and, after a few moments, she lets me feed her a bite.

“That’s better.” My knees bump against her thighs and it’s still too much distance. After laying down the fork, I lift her onto my lap, holding her flush against my torso with one arm while I resume feeding her with the other.

Stiff at first, she gradually relaxes to lean back against my bare chest, her hair tickling as it dries.

The weight of her on my thighs feels good. The way her small behind wriggles against my crotch as she leans forward to eat the next bite is divine. I love the way her head tucks neatly under my chin when she rests back against me. My arm is across her ribs, the undercurve of her breast pressing on my wrist.

“You’re full?” I ask when she shakes her head at the next forkful. “What about a glass of wine?”

“No, I—” She bites on her bottom lip, twisting until she meets my eyes. “Why are you still here? What more do you want?” She briefly struggles to get free but gives up as my arm traps her in place, huffing out an exasperated breath instead. “When are you leaving?”

“How about dessert? I put some ice cream in the freezer.”

Francesca jolts at the suggestion, turning so her startled eyes stare straight into mine. Then she follows my hand, pointing to the fridge freezer, and relaxes. “It’s too cold for ice cream.”

With her on my lap, I hadn’t noticed, but the moment she mentions it, I shiver. The place is cold enough to see my breath.

“Where’s your heater?”

“I don’t have one. It’s not worth the expense with just me here.”

I give a surprised laugh. “You can’t be serious.”

“Try putting your shirt back on if you’re cold,” she says, fighting to stand. “Better still, leave.”

I release her, watching as she clears away our plates and stares at the leftover food with ravenous eyes. “Are you taking this back with you?”

Nothing has gone like I thought it would, but my skin still buzzes. I’m still more alive than I can remember feeling for years. “I live in a mansion with a full-time housekeeper to cook for me. Of course, I’m not taking it home.”

She covers it, storing it in the fridge with quick, jerky movements, and I ignore her earlier answer, walking up behind and easing her aside to get the champagne. Unscrewing the wire cage and gently twisting the bottle away from the cork.

Francesca jumps, gasping at the noise. She pulls a glass tumbler from the cupboard and sets it in front of me. “We don’t have any wine glasses.”

“That’s fine. I don’t think it cares what we drink it from.”

I slowly pour until the bubbles are a few millimetres from the edge, handing her the glass.

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes.” I move past her, taking out another cup—this one orange plastic—and filling it for me. “You can’t expect me to drink the entire bottle by myself.”

The angle of her jaw makes me think she’s about to argue, but a soft sigh escapes, and she lifts the glass to her lips, taking a small sip.

“Cheers,” I say, knocking the base of my cup against hers. I mimic her tiny sip, crossing my eyes to ease her tension. A small burst of joy twists in my chest as she gives a soft laugh.