Chapter Eighteen

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**This chapter contains smut.**

Davina's POV

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I've been at the safe house for a couple weeks now, and I'm honestly loving it. I'm sure this isn't what a luxurious life is like, but it sure feels like luxury to me. Empty space, free food, free drinks, no one to bother me, alone at last. When I leave this house, the thing I'll miss most is the privacy. Sweet, sweet privacy. I could spend a whole day naked in this house and not have any worries about someone seeing me. Eric assured me there's no one here.

Speaking of Eric, the cell phone he left me chimes, letting me know I have a notification. And the only person that notification would be from is him, since he's the only person who's number is saved in this phone.

Eric: I'm on my way.

A frown replaces my relaxed face along with a frustrated sigh.

Me: Why?

Eric: To make sure the house is still intact. And you.

Me: Shit, was I not supposed to burn the house down, because that's what I did.

Eric: Shut the fuck up.

I throw the phone on the bed, and it lands on the edge. I resume the cooking show playing on the TV and continue eating the popcorn I made this morning. I never learned how to cook; my parents never taught me, and I'm not even a hundred percent sure if my only parent left even knows shit about cooking, considering he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and has had maids and chefs to cook his meals for him his entire life.

The house has been stocked with a fucking large variety of ingredients, seventy percent of them I have never even seen or heard of. I'm assuming and hoping the kitchen has all the ingredients needed for spaghetti and meatballs since that's what my cooking show is teaching me how to make. I'm eighty percent sure I'll one-hundred percent fail, but that's okay.

I finished the episode, and even though I paid all my attention to every second of it, I still feel unsure of the steps. I head to the kitchen and begin grabbing the ingredients. I listed them so I don't forget. Ground beef, olive oil, onion, what the fuck are pepper flakes? Whatever, I found them. All my ingredients are laid out, and now I'm more lost than ever.

I could rewatch the episode to re-educate myself...or I could just go off of memory.

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Well, I fucked up.

I've gone through four packets of spaghetti and still can't get this shit right. The recipe said 'half a teaspoon of red pepper flakes', but I somehow measured one and a half tablespoons instead. The ground beef made me continuously gag, and I've also gone through half a dozen eggs due to my lack of egg-cracking skills.

Right on cue, a brown-haired Italian man enters the house. I'm guessing he had a key since the door was locked, and I didn't let anyone in. I hear footsteps going into the living room before coming into the kitchen. The man now has a wide-eyed, confused expression as he scans the once beautiful kitchen that now looks like a high school cafeteria after a food fight occured amongst the students. I would know, I've been watching too much TV.

"What the fuck," the Italian voice slowly says as he approaches my parmesan-covered self.

"Yes?" I question with an eyebrow raised.

"Did you try to cook?" he asks.

"Yes...?"

"Spaghetti?" He fiddles around with the spaghetti that's been placed all over the counter. "What the fuck is that," he deadpans, a disgusted look on his face as his eyes move to the floor.

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