Heart of Stone - Stone and Fire #1 [17+] (REWRITING)

Chapter 42

who ready for sum spice 💃🏽💃🏽

Adriana's POV

I burnt risotto.

Again.

I stared at the pan, its contents a charred mess of over-ambition and misplaced confidence, the faint smell of smoke curling through the dimly lit kitchen. It wasn't even my first attempt tonight.

Three rounds in, and the sink looked like a battlefield of scorched pans and shattered pride.

My phone was wedged between my shoulder and ear as I stirred absentmindedly at the ruined dish, listening to my mamma's half-annoyed, half-bemused voice.

"I don't know what to tell you. I added the broth slowly-"

"You stirred it, si?"

"Yes, of course I stirred-"

"And you toasted the rice?"

I stared at the pitch-black pan.

Oh.

"Um. Yes, I did do that. It must've been the stove. Nikolas's appliances are too modern, I swear."

"Santo cielo, I don't know how that man walks around looking like that. How does he get his calories?"

I rolled my eyes. "Mama, it's not like he doesn't know how to cook."

"Basta. You can't impress that man with burnt risotto. His standards must be out of the roof as it is."

I was about to retort when movement in the doorway caught my eye. My voice faltered, the words dissolving into nothing as Nikolas walked in.

The low kitchen lights cast his features into sharp relief—square jaw catching the faint glow, his broad shoulders shifting beneath the suit he wore with that usual stark composure. His gaze swept over me from head to toe, slow and deliberate, a raised brow giving me the notion that he hadn't come home for nothing.

I couldn't hear my mom anymore.

My pulse quickened as he moved further into the room, his presence filling the space effortlessly. His dark eyes locked on mine, then to the phone, and I felt like a moth trapped under glass, heat creeping up my neck.

"Adriana!" my mom's voice cut through, distant and tinny from the phone. "Stai ascoltando? Are you even listening to me?"

My mouth ran dry as he let the keys fall onto the living room console, and then started to shrug off his suit jacket. His muscles rippled under the black shirt, and the warmth in my neck trickled down into my lower stomach.

His dark eyes dropped to the phone pressed against my ear, then back to my face, silently communicating his disapproval.

"Uh- Yes, mama. I'm listening."

I wasn't listening.

I don't know what it was this time, the fact that he'd come back from work so late, or the fact that there was a certain thickness in the air I couldn't swallow. But it was hot, dreary, and brimming with anticipation.

I tuned myself back into the call while he poured himself a drink from the minibar near the front windows. The curtains were closed, some pool lights streaming in, but other than that I only had the dimmed kitchen lights to give the room some life.

He watched me as he leaned against the small bar, and the longer he did it my heart pumped faster, pushing nerves through my veins. I swallowed down a smile and met his gaze with every ounce of attention I could muster- even while Mama talked my ear off.