crack in his door.
_____
Katrina moved about the kitchen
of the enormous penthouse clumsily, the pounding of her head inhibiting her
from sharp and swift movements. Still, she continued on in her attempt at
making breakfast for Dr. Lyle, the man who had probably saved her life the
night before.
When she’d awakened on a black
leather couch in a strange living room, it had taken her a moment to remember
where she was. Her head was spinning, and at first she’d thought she was having
a nasty hangover and had awakened on the couch of some stranger. Panic gripped
her as she slowly remembered leaving Parson’s after her set—completely
sober—and being attacked on the street by one of the Pirelli family’s thugs.
She didn’t have to be told why he was attacking her or who’d sent him. After
Victor’s warning, Katrina knew full well what was happening. She shuddered as
she remembered the tight grip of calloused fingers around her throat and the
menacing gleam of a knife in the moonlight.
Thank goodness for Lyle. He’d
come thundering through that alley like a knight in shining armor. He’d even
stitched her up after and let her crash on his couch.
Once she’d been able to sit up,
fighting nausea with every fiber of her being, Katrina stumbled into the
kitchen with one mission in mind. What did one do for the man who’d saved her
life? Katrina wasn’t sure, but she figured breakfast was the least she could do
and probably all a former drug addict and lounge singer could offer.
So here she was, snooping around
a stranger’s kitchen, completely out of her element in the kind of home she’d
only been able to afford before she’d left the Giordano Family. Everything
about this place screamed wealth and class, reminding her of a perfectly placed
display in the Pottery Barn window. It was a far cry from her colorful
apartment, with everything smoothed over in clean lines and curves and done in
shades of black, white, gray, and beige.
As her eggs began to cook,
Katrina changed the disposable pod in the one-cup coffee maker on the counter
beside her before sliding an empty cup in place of her full one. Sipping at the
strong brew, Katrina sighed in appreciation at the robust flavor before adding
a spoonful of sugar and a dash of cream. She fumbled for a spatula in the
drawer beside her before quickly stirring her eggs, satisfied that she’d
properly turned the stainless steel, gas range up to the perfect temperature.
Bacon popped and sputtered on the range beside the eggs, and two perfectly
toasted bagels were resting on pristine, white square plates, ready for a
coating of cream cheese.
As Katrina turned off the eggs,
deciding that they were just the perfect consistency, she noticed the tiny
black box resting on the counter. Curiosity drew her eyebrows together as she
reached for the box, gasping as she opened it to reveal the giant, golf
ball-sized diamond nestled against black velvet. She whistled as she lifted the
ring by what she was quite certain was a platinum band.
She was so entranced by the
pinpoints of light and color dancing off the prisms inside of the princess cut
ring that she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her until it was too late.
“Good morning,” said a gruff
voice from behind her, causing her to jump at least a mile high in surprise.
The ring slipped from her grasp and clattered to the white tiles noisily as
Katrina spun to face Lyle. He was gazing down at her through a pair of sleek,
black rectangular frames, a light sprinkle of morning stubble scraping his jaw.
In the light of the sun coming through the floor to ceiling windows behind him,
his eyes were a tawny amber, like a lion’s, nearly matching the dark blond
shade of his hair.
“I apologize for scaring you,” he
said as he knelt to retrieve the ring from the floor. Katrina held the jewelry
box out to him with shaking hands.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I
wasn’t trying to be nosey.”
Lyle shrugged as he
_____
Katrina moved about the kitchen
of the enormous penthouse clumsily, the pounding of her head inhibiting her
from sharp and swift movements. Still, she continued on in her attempt at
making breakfast for Dr. Lyle, the man who had probably saved her life the
night before.
When she’d awakened on a black
leather couch in a strange living room, it had taken her a moment to remember
where she was. Her head was spinning, and at first she’d thought she was having
a nasty hangover and had awakened on the couch of some stranger. Panic gripped
her as she slowly remembered leaving Parson’s after her set—completely
sober—and being attacked on the street by one of the Pirelli family’s thugs.
She didn’t have to be told why he was attacking her or who’d sent him. After
Victor’s warning, Katrina knew full well what was happening. She shuddered as
she remembered the tight grip of calloused fingers around her throat and the
menacing gleam of a knife in the moonlight.
Thank goodness for Lyle. He’d
come thundering through that alley like a knight in shining armor. He’d even
stitched her up after and let her crash on his couch.
Once she’d been able to sit up,
fighting nausea with every fiber of her being, Katrina stumbled into the
kitchen with one mission in mind. What did one do for the man who’d saved her
life? Katrina wasn’t sure, but she figured breakfast was the least she could do
and probably all a former drug addict and lounge singer could offer.
So here she was, snooping around
a stranger’s kitchen, completely out of her element in the kind of home she’d
only been able to afford before she’d left the Giordano Family. Everything
about this place screamed wealth and class, reminding her of a perfectly placed
display in the Pottery Barn window. It was a far cry from her colorful
apartment, with everything smoothed over in clean lines and curves and done in
shades of black, white, gray, and beige.
As her eggs began to cook,
Katrina changed the disposable pod in the one-cup coffee maker on the counter
beside her before sliding an empty cup in place of her full one. Sipping at the
strong brew, Katrina sighed in appreciation at the robust flavor before adding
a spoonful of sugar and a dash of cream. She fumbled for a spatula in the
drawer beside her before quickly stirring her eggs, satisfied that she’d
properly turned the stainless steel, gas range up to the perfect temperature.
Bacon popped and sputtered on the range beside the eggs, and two perfectly
toasted bagels were resting on pristine, white square plates, ready for a
coating of cream cheese.
As Katrina turned off the eggs,
deciding that they were just the perfect consistency, she noticed the tiny
black box resting on the counter. Curiosity drew her eyebrows together as she
reached for the box, gasping as she opened it to reveal the giant, golf
ball-sized diamond nestled against black velvet. She whistled as she lifted the
ring by what she was quite certain was a platinum band.
She was so entranced by the
pinpoints of light and color dancing off the prisms inside of the princess cut
ring that she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her until it was too late.
“Good morning,” said a gruff
voice from behind her, causing her to jump at least a mile high in surprise.
The ring slipped from her grasp and clattered to the white tiles noisily as
Katrina spun to face Lyle. He was gazing down at her through a pair of sleek,
black rectangular frames, a light sprinkle of morning stubble scraping his jaw.
In the light of the sun coming through the floor to ceiling windows behind him,
his eyes were a tawny amber, like a lion’s, nearly matching the dark blond
shade of his hair.
“I apologize for scaring you,” he
said as he knelt to retrieve the ring from the floor. Katrina held the jewelry
box out to him with shaking hands.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I
wasn’t trying to be nosey.”
Lyle shrugged as he
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