CHAPTER 30: A CONDITION

Braelyn’s POV

My cheeks burned, and I cupped my face to hide them. "No one is here. There is no need for the act." I muttered.

How could he say such cheesy things with a straight face? "I’m not acting Braelyn. I’m too exhausted." He sighed, his attention still focused on the pan.

My eyes were still fixed on his frame and the way those broad shoulders moved. The image of a man half-naked with an apron officially became my new kink. He looked perfect and I could not pry my eyes away.

The aroma hit before I realised what he was cooking, garlic, oil, and something faintly spicy curling through the air. "What are you doing?" I asked curiously.

He moved around the stove with practised ease, the kind that came from someone who had done this a million times. Although Lucien wasn’t part of the family business I was certain he had enough trust fund not to ever do a single chore his entire life. It was surprising to know he could cook.

I couldn’t cook to save myself and that was a bit embarrassing. My feet moved towards him for a closer move amazed by something so mundane

"Pasta?" I asked, stepping closer, my voice barely above the hum of the burner.

"Aglio e Olio," he said simply, twirling the pasta with the fork in one hand, flicking the pan with the other. "Something light. Couldn’t sleep," he said casually, like he wasn’t crying under the rain earlier.

"I guess I wasn’t the only one who could not. " I chuckled. He also laughed then gave me a quick glance.

"It’s a chill night, you should not have issues sleeping." He said, and as if on cue, thunder struck again, and I subconsciously shuddered.

He was stunned then smiled. Lucien laughed, his hand reaching for my head to pat it. "Never imagined the Viper was sacred of thunder." He joked. I frowned, backing away.

"Viper?" I arched a brow at him. He ignored the question brushing over it.

"I wasn’t expecting to discover something new." His voice carried a teasing tone. I puffed my cheeks.

"Whatever." I shrugged, then strode to the fridge, hoping to find some snacks. To my greatest disappointment, there wasn’t any, not even chips.

I forgot this was the Volkov family fridge and not mine. Annoyed, I grabbed a bottle of cold water and then picked up a clean glass. The water twirled as it filled the glass.

My eyes darted back to him watching him handle the pasta. That looked good. My tongue subconsciously rolled over my lips.

The oil shimmered, coating the pasta like silk. He tilted his head just enough to glance at me, eyes still holding that teasing glint.

"You can stop pretending you came down for water, Brae," he mentioned, and I froze like I was caught committing a crime.

"I needed a short walk to clear my head." I lied, but my stomach betrayed me, growling softly. He smirked.

"Your stomach seems to disagree," he murmured. I pouted my lips.

"Okay, I am a bit hungry because I puked earlier," I argued. He nodded but the grin on his face mirrored the truth. I rushed to my side ready to retort and protect my image

"I am serious. I had a fight with Raphael earlier, in the middle of the heat, and I ended up puking. It’s true." I argued. Lucien laughed, his smile was dazzling, completely different from how he looked under the rain earlier.

"You fought," Lucien said with a chill. "I hope he didn’t hit you. " My hand subconsciously touched my neck.

"No he didn’t. Raphael isn’t that type of man," I said, but I now doubt my words.

"Enough of that, the fight isn’t important. What is important is who taught you to cook?" I brushed him off, staring at the pan like magic was being performed.

"You can’t cook." He said straightforwardly, and my cheeks burned once more.

"You make it sound like a bad thing. Grew up a pampered princess then married a wealthy man. Braelyn and cooking can’t be in the same sentence." I said smugly..

"Well, I am not stunned. My father, if he were alive, would faint if he knew I could cook. Ronan might also have a heart attack and it isn’t because I am pampered or spoilt..." He mentioned then paused to adjust the heat

"Lucien is known to destroy things better than creating." He explained.

My eyes darted around the kitchen set up "Is there anything I can help with?" I asked.

"If you can help with the fruits I want to make a smoothie to go with the pasta." His gaze fell on some fruits left on the counter. Without further instructions, I picked them up to wash in the sink.

Before carrying it to the chopping board. "So when did you learn how to cook?" I mentioned picking out a knife to perform surgery on these fruits. It was just cutting a pineapple. It shouldn’t be that hard. I reminded myself.

"I randomly picked it as a habit. One of my exes was a chef, and she literally forced me to the kitchen." He laughed.

My curiosity piqued. "What happened to her?" I said about to cut the crown of the pineapple but the knife ended up slipping from my hand and flying over the counter

I shrieked and Lucien instinctively switched off the burner as he ran towards me. "Are you alright? Hope you didn’t hurt yourself." He asked, his eyes running over the mess I made.

I shook my head then nervously turned away. Too embarrassed to admit I was completely hopeless in the kitchen. "The knife was slippery."

Lucien sighed at my excuse. "It’s fine. I can handle everything." My feet were swept off the floor. Puzzled I stared at him as he carried me to the centre aisle.

"Just sit here and enjoy the view." He sat me there before cleaning up my mess. I folded my arms.

"I am good at other things." I defended myself. He subconsciously nodded.

"I know just stay there for your safety." He said before checking the pan. It seemed like this pasta was already done so he moved on to the fruits.

I gulped, just watching him made me hungrier, but it wasn’t just food I craved. "What happened to your ex? The chef." I pushed on

"You seem oddly concerned about my dating life."

"Just curious. I feel it will be a juicy story. So please tell me." I whined. I think he smiled although I couldn’t see his face

"I can tell you but under a condition..." He drawled, chopping the peeled pineapple.

"A condition?" I blurted.

He was pretty skilled at chopping fruits. Maybe I should pick up cooking as a hobby.

"Yep. I can’t tell you my past for free. If you tell me why you can’t divorce Raphael, I will tell you about the chef who made the psycho learn how to cook." He was baiting me.

My finger curled, because part of me wanted to tell him everything and the other part didn’t know if I could.