Page 24

24

Milo

C ooking had long been a hobby of mine. I enjoyed the mundane task of weighing out ingredients, following a recipe, and waiting to see whether it produced something fit for human consumption.

The small kitchen in our campus apartment was functional at best, so I rarely bothered cooking while at college, but the large kitchen in this house was more than adequate for my needs.

I’d added a list of ingredients to the shopping app Mrs O’Malley referred to when picking up groceries. She’d expressed disbelief at a few of the items, scoffing loudly when I told her they were important. I wasn’t confident the local stores in this, frankly, backwards place would stock what I needed, but to my surprise, she had somehow managed to source most of the items.

The woman was a grumpy old crone, but I quite liked her no-nonsense attitude. She said what she thought. There was no ambiguity, whereas other people often left me scratching my head, wary of offending because of a misunderstanding.

Today was Christmas Eve.

None of us felt like celebrating, but there was an unspoken agreement that we needed to put our game faces on. If only for Verity, who apparently loved pretty lights and all things sparkling.

One of Declan’s men had dropped off a large spruce tree yesterday, along with a box of decorations. Most of them seemed like they’d fallen off the back of a lorry, but it was the thought that counted. I had a feeling the unexpected delivery was Eden’s work since I highly doubted Declan Kelly gave a shit whether we had a nice Christmas.

Other than a terse phone call to Thea a couple of days after we arrived, letting her know she’d used up her one and only favor, we’d not seen or heard from the man. Still, it was good of him to let us stay. None of us knew what the New Year would bring, but I rarely worried about things I had no control over.

“What are you making?” Dario asked when he wandered into the kitchen. He had made a point of staying out of everyone’s way since we arrived. Why he’d stuck around was anyone’s guess, but I assumed it was safer here than anywhere else.

“A lamb stew for tonight’s dinner.” I shoved some sprouts in his direction. “Make yourself useful and peel those.”

“What the fuck are these?” From the puzzled look on his face, he wasn’t familiar with sprouts.

“Brussels sprouts. They’re an excellent source of potassium and Vitamin C.”

“Hmm…” He picked one up and examined it with suspicion. “I think I’ll pass, thanks.”

“Don’t worry, I’m making a lasagne for Christmas dinner tomorrow, as well as turkey and all the trimmings.”

“You are?” A look of surprise flashed across his face.

“Yes. I figured you and the girls might want something more familiar to eat on Christmas day.”

“Um, unless things changed the last few years, Thea’s never celebrated Christmas, so she won’t be expecting anything fancy.”

The knife I held slipped from my hand and clattered onto the table.

“What, never?” Now I was more determined than ever to make it nice for her. She deserved it.

Dario moved over to the coffee machine and switched it on. I watched as he ground some beans and waited for the machine to heat. The guy was obsessed with coffee. Even more so than Cassian, who lived for the damned stuff.

“No, Francesco isn’t exactly a family guy.”

“Shut up, Dar,” Thea snapped from the doorway. The furious look she threw at Dario was enough to cause a man’s balls to shrivel up and die. I was thankful not to be the target of her ire. “If I want people to know about my shitty life, I’ll tell them myself.”

“Just making sure Martha Stewart here gets the memo that you’re not a fan of Christmas. Would hate for him to slave over a hot stove for nothing.” The smile he gave her looked fake as fuck, even to me. Dario was desperate for her to throw him a bone, but so far, she’d mostly ignored him. Today’s little spat was the first time she’d spoken to him in days.

I carried on chopping carrots as he waited for the coffee to finish pouring.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel. All that matters is that Verity has a good day,” Thea said after a few tense moments.

“I always made sure you both had a nice day,” Dario replied in a low voice.

Thea turned to face him. “The gifts - they were from you?”

Gifts?

Dario nodded. “Yeah. Dad handed them to Mrs. Gia, who smuggled them into the house under Torrance’s nose.”

“Oh. I assumed…”

“You assumed they were from Mrs. Gia.”

“Yeah.”

He shrugged. “It didn’t matter who they came from. All that mattered was Verity had something to unwrap. I knew Mrs. Gia had no way to buy anything. Not with that fucker breathing down her neck all the time. So I bought a few things for her to give to Verity. She didn’t deserve to miss out because your father liked to pretend she didn’t exist.”

Thea shuffled on the spot. “Thank you,” she breathed, as Dario picked up his espresso. “Those gifts meant a lot to her.”

“I’m glad.” He nodded and then left the kitchen. Thea watched him go with a conflicted expression on her face, her usual mask of indifference nowhere to be seen. Had the wall between them finally cracked?

I hoped so. Dario had behaved abysmally, but he’d also played a crucial part in Thea’s rescue. Without his intel, I doubted we’d all be here, in this house, together.

Personally speaking, I didn’t mind his presence. Now he’d stopped throwing shit at Thea all the time, he seemed like a decent enough guy. And he was definitely good for Verity.

Thea seemed lost when my attention moved back to her. I wondered if maybe I ought to offer her some sort of comfort. Would she expect a hug? The idea of hugging her was less scary than I expected. It might even feel nice.

I’d become accustomed to hugging her at night, in her bed. Mostly she was asleep, but if she woke, she never seemed to mind. I liked holding her, feeling her body touch mine, her soft curves against my more angular planes.

“Quit staring at me, Milo,” she muttered.

“I wasn’t staring.” Was I?

“Yeah, you were.” Oh .

“Is he being creepy again?” Landon quipped from the doorway. “Say the word and I’ll remove him from your presence, wifey.”

Thea pursed her lips. “I’m your wifey again, am I? I thought I’d been downgraded to slut after destroying your family name.”

“Well it’s fair to say Dad isn’t a fan, but since he’s disinherited me, what he thinks has no bearing anymore.”

“What the fuck, Lan?” I choked. How did I not know this?

“You’re joking, right?” Thea looked shocked. Landon’s revelation explained why he’d been in such a foul mood since we left Scotland. No wonder he hadn’t stopped moping around. My parents barely noticed I existed most of the time, but they’d never threatened to cut me off financially. Not even after the Haley incident.

“Nope. Not joking. I’m officially no longer a Rothmore, heir to the most prestigious whiskey distillery in Scotland.” He threw us a crooked smile, which faded almost immediately.

“Shit, that’s awful.”

“It’s not great, but I’ll survive. I have marketable talents.”

I finished slicing the carrots and pushed them to one side. “You do have some marketable talents,” I agreed.

“Exactly. Content creation is where it’s at. I’m going to try my hand at becoming an influencer.”

“Yes, that might work, although attractive females tend to do much better.” I pulled some leeks from the string bag on the kitchen island. Leeks pan-fried in butter with bacon would work well with my Irish stew. “There’s always OnlyFans. You could make decent money on there, particularly if you branch out into couples’ content or niche stuff.”

“He’s not doing OnlyFans!” Thea snapped.

Landon beamed. “Does the idea of me making raunchy videos for thirsty women upset you, baby?”

She huffed with annoyance and then backtracked. “No, not at all.” But from the way she refused to look at Lan, it was obviously a lie. “It’s none of my business what you do with your… dick .”

I watched with fascination as her gaze dipped down, lingering on Lan’s crotch, nicely showcased in a pair of tight jeans. Despite doing a fine job of pushing him away since we arrived, it was pretty fucking obvious she was still hot for him.

“Like what you see, pretty girl?” he cooed while pushing her against the counter.

“Nope,” she hissed, biting her lip.

The heat sizzling between them burned hot enough to raze the house to the ground. I hoped Declan had the place insured.

Leeks lay half-sliced in a pile in front of me, but I no longer gave a shit about food prep.

“Liar, liar, I bet your pretty little panties are on fire, wifey,” Lan taunted.

“I’m not your wifey, fuckface!” She glared up at him, but my friend just grinned. I hoped they decided to make couples’ content for OnlyFans. If they did, I’d be their number one subscriber. My dick was hard just soaking up the sexual tension between them. Cooking had slipped down my to-do list.

“Not yet…” Landon grinned.