Affairs Of The Game (18+)- BOOK 2

🌹T R E D I C I: P a r t O n e

To be edited
Chapter 13: Eggs, Bacon and A Truth Session

Luca's Pov

The first light of day broke at 6 am and before that morning light would even dare to touch the soil of my estate I was already up and about. Already half way into completing my 1st lap around the wide estate.

It was a habit for me, rising before the sun.

At the age of seven I had be trained to do so, to wake before the world did and go down to the training room to have my ass kicked by some older man, a man part of the family. My family.

Jogging up the hill at a steady pace, past the garden cared by the hired gardener I go, the sweet melodic grate of the bow against the strings of the violin flood from my earbuds to my ears. It's sound magnificent and calming.

It reminded me of Iris, of her voice, of her being like the violin was melodic and sweet and always seemed to calm me, capable of piercing my very soul with just a flutter of her lashes, with just a hum for those sweet lips.

Fuck, those lips.

Like the violin she was delicate and I wanted to play her, I was desperate to hear the magical sounds she could make for me and only me but I was a piano guy and I'd never learnt the ways of the cinnamon polished instrument but I would figure it out, I'd figure her out.

The morning is fresh and crisp and unlike the blazing inferno of West Bridge, New York at this particular moment is cool. Fresh dew coats the evergreen grass and behind a trail left of the path from which I came. My house stands proudly on top of the clearing surrounded by trees, trees and more trees, all of vary sizes and shapes and species.

Home of the birds who chatter and chirp their morning song, few of the only sounds that could be heard around these parts. Slipping the earbuds out, my breathing is heavy as a ton from just having lapped the estate, twice. I nod at the pool cleaner, Fredrick Noah Kent who had been my employee since the very day I moved in. He nods back politely.

I go through the back door of the kitchen, brows wrinkling as the smell of eggs invade my nostrils. Moving further inside I see her, clad in a t-shirt and a pair of shorts that barely covers her ample derrière. Iris hops about the room, cooking up a storm and I do mean storm.

My kitchen looked like Winter had come early and indoors, flour, well what I assume is flour covered every square inch of the kitchen, dusting everything around it white including Iris who was starting to look like the x men mutant Storm's doppelgänger each passing minute.

Blueberries and strawberries were scattered all over as if someone had thrown them about like confetti. Packages of different breakfast goods ripped open and the polished silverware dumped haphazardly. The room was chaotic. Anarchy reigned here. My once immaculate kitchen had been turned into a person with OCD's worst nightmare.

Iris still having not noticed me, nearly meets the archangel Micheal when I speak.

"I thought you learned how to cook?" My nose scrunched at the catastrophic state of my kitchen. Whirling around to face me, she clutches her chest and mutters a breathless 'Christ.'

Iris explains flustered. "I had an accident." I cock my brow as if to say no shit but bite back any snide remarks.

"An accident?" I repeat with a click of my tongue which turns into a chuckle. "So that explains why the kitchen looks like a bomb went off in a trap house."