“Throwing things won’t get you food any faster,” he joked.
“What will a hand—” Mayko started.
Reaching over to Mayko, my hand closed over her mouth before she embarrassed me even further. I loved her to death, but she purposely said things to get people riled up.
“Get dressed, and I’ll get you all out for the best breakfast in town,” he winked at me, closing the door behind him. I let go of Mayko, who only leered at me.
“I like him,” Antigone said, walking toward the closet.
“None of my stuff is in there—”
“What do you mean?” she questioned, lifting out a yellow dress of mine.
What? This was still Noah’s room.
Rising from the bed, I moved into the closet right beside her, and there, next to all of his leather jackets and button-down shirts were my clothes, which took up two-thirds of the closet. Even my shoes were all lined up perfectly.
I wasn’t sure if it was Ollie or Noah, but I didn’t care. Just seeing something as simple as a closet made me feel better.
Heading into the bathroom, it was the same thing. All my facial cleansers, lotions, and perfumes were sitting on the counter, and I knew that it was Noah. I had a system for setting up my bathroom, and Ollie knew it already.
This was all Noah.
We’d be in Chicago filming for a few more weeks. This suite was his home away from home, and he had actively moved me into his life.
It really was the little things that mattered.
Chapter Eight
Amelia
“You can open your eyes now,” he said to us.
Dropping my hands, I’m not sure what I expected to see, but shiny stainless steel pots and a freshly polished flatbed fully stocked with vegetables inside the hotel kitchen was not it. I glanced over to my sisters, who looked just as confused as me.
“I got it,” Mayko said, clapping. “You hired a personal chef to make us our breakfast?”
“Close,” Noah answered, reaching for a folded apron on the countertop and tying it around his waist.
“You? You’re cooking?” I’d never seen him cook anything. I’m not even sure I’d seen him operate a damn microwave.
“Doubting Thomas, please take your seats, and prepared to be amazed.” He motioned to the stools on the other side of the tables.
Each one of us made a face as we took our seats—me in the middle, Antigone to my left, and Mayko to my right.
“What’s on the menu, Chef Sloan?” Antigone sat up, her elbows on the table. She reached for a piece of bread, but he smacked her hand with a wooden spoon.
“You’ll regret it if you eat now,” he uttered softly, his eyes never leaving hers, that devilish smirk of his stuck to his face.
Antigone slowly sunk back into her seat, holding the hand he smacked to her chest, like he had rewarded her. Snapping my fingers in front her face, she shook her head clear.
“You were drooling,” Mayko teased. But she shut up the moment he stepped up beside her, taking her hand and placing a champagne flute in it. He held on to it as he poured the chilled sparkling champagne, never letting go, even when he switched to get the orange juice. He smiled at her, filling her glass up to the rim.
“Who’s drooling now, bitch?” Antigone said. Mayko still couldn’t speak.
Noah, pretending he couldn’t hear us, skipped me and moved over to Antigone, repeating the same action. I’m sure some girls would have gotten jealous. I was trying my best not to laugh, placing my hand over my mouth. They were only being exposed to a fraction of his charm, and they couldn’t think straight. If they only knew—
“Hah!” I gasped, sitting up straighter as he came over to me. However, unlike with them, he pressed up against me completely, his lips right at my ear and his hands on either side of me.
“Drink reasonably, babe. Your fever finally came down,” he whispered into my ear. I shivered, trying to focus on anything but how close he was. That went out the window when he kissed my shoulder, though, and then moved back to his work station as if nothing had happened.
“I want one,” Mayko whispered.
“You already have a boyfriend,” Antigone reminded her.
“Not one like him,” she replied. I’m not sure what she was thinking, but she snapped herself out of it, turning to me and saying, “You think he’d give lessons on how to woo a girl?”
“Yes, because as actors, we have the luxury of time.”
“I’ll put it on my Christmas list,” she said seriously, and at that, Antigone and I broke out laughing. Mayko was one of a kind. You’d never guess she was actually studying to be a rocket scientist.
“He’s no joke.” Antigone said, nodding to Noah. He reached for two onions, slicing them into quarters, and then with a speed I thought was reserved only for master chefs, he chopped right through them. He slid them to the edge of the cutting board before reaching for two cloves of garlic, then fresh parsley. He went for the tomatoes last.
“Where in the hell did you learn to do this?” I asked.
“I acted in a small indie movie called The Vintage Cloud in Italy two years ago. I wanted to be authentic, so I took a few classes,” he answered like it was nothing, pouring olive oil into a cast iron pan. “How I became this sexy, well—that was just divine providence.”
“Careful, your head is expanding,” I said.
“Is it?” He glanced down at his crotch. “Excuse me, ladies. I really can’t contain myself sometimes.”
Antigone and Mayko couldn’t take it anymore. They almost fell out of their chairs laughing. Meanwhile, my face was slowly getting hotter and hotter. Downing the mimosa, I couldn’t think of anything to say. Damn him.
“Come on, Santa. Mama needs one of those,” Mayko lifted her glass to toast him.
“Neither of you are helping his ego right now,” I said, glancing back and forth between them.
“Didn’t you hear him?” Antigone joined. “It’s divine providence. Nothing can help contain that.”
Noah winked at me.
“Ugh, Amelia, why do you have to be Blair Hawthorne?” Antigone groaned, leaning to the side. “How the hell am I supposed enjoy the sinful sex life of Damon and Blair when my sister is the lead actress being whipped?”
“Don’t. I’m still sad,” Mayko replied.
“Thanks, guys,” I pouted.
Mayko leaned in on my right. “How much of it is real?”
“Since you guys are dating, is it acting or foreplay?” Antigone said, leaning in from my left.
Yep. My face was red. I could feel the heat in my ears. Meanwhile, Noah just slid his minced ingredients into the pan, the corners of his lips turned up.
“Foreplay,” Noah answered as I reached for the champagne. Screw the orange juice.
He continued, “But we don’t plan it out that way. We go to set, and we’ve read through our lines so many times by this point that they’re almost dull. But the moment the director says ‘action,’ you forget everything but what you have to say and who you are saying it to. Each line, every single touch builds up, and even though in the back of my mind I know I am not Damon Shaw, I, Noah, can’t help but get excited either. What was once a simple line or a slight touch becomes so much. The fact that I think your sister is the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on only makes matters harder for me. Whether the director says ‘cut’ or not, until I have her, until I’m no longer aching with the need of her, then I can’t stop. So, yes, it’s real, and yes, it’s foreplay—of the best kind.”
I crossed my legs, trying to ignore the aching I was currently feeling for him.
“Jesus Christ,” Mayko whispered.
Without missing a beat, Noah turned off the stove, placing a mat down in front of us before lifting the pan into the center.
“Here you have Egg and Tomato Breakfast Skillet,” he stated before stepping over to me, taking a piece of bread, dipping it the red sauce, and bringing it to my lips. He blew gently before lifting it for me to eat off his fingertips.