Falling Between the Notes (Nicholas Galitzine)

Chapter 72: What Now?

Jade's pov.

8:45am

The eggs sizzled in the pan, the smell of butter and toast mixing with the rich scent of coffee. Benito stood by the stove, flipping them with an effortless flick of his wrist, his damp curls falling over his forehead, still fresh from the shower. His t-shirt hung loosely over his frame, but the way it clung to his arms, the way his tattoos peeked through, made it impossible to ignore the way he looked under it.

I sipped my coffee, trying not to stare.

Trying not to think about last night.

Or how easy this felt.

"¿Te gusta tu café así, mi reina?" (You like your coffee like this, babe?) Benito asked, glancing over his shoulder.

I blinked, then looked down at the mug in my hands.

Dark, slightly sweet. Exactly how I liked it.

I smirked. "Yeah, it's good. Best coffee I've had in a while, as a matter of fact."

"Claro." (Of course.) He turned back to the stove, grabbing a plate. "Si te voy a malcriar, lo voy a hacer bien." (If I'm going to spoil you, I'm going to do it right.)

I rolled my eyes but smiled against the rim of my mug.

Benito plated the eggs, adding slices of avocado, then brought it over to the island, sliding a plate in front of me before sitting across from me. He propped his elbows on the counter, resting his chin on his hand, watching me as I took my first bite.

The food was good—annoyingly good. Simple, but made exactly right.

I chewed, swallowed, then pointed my fork at him. "Okay. I'm impressed."

He grinned, dimples peeking through. "Sabía que lo estarías." (I knew you would be.)

I rolled my eyes again, but this time, he reached out, trailing his fingers lightly over my wrist. 

My stomach flipped.

It was just breakfast. Just food.

But the way he looked at me, the way his fingers skimmed my skin like it was nothing, like it was natural—like he had every right to—felt like more.

I swallowed, turning back to my plate.

Benito chuckled, slow and knowing, before digging into his own food.

We ate in silence for a few minutes, the only sounds coming from the occasional clink of silverware against plates.

Then, casually, he spoke. "Vas a revisar tu teléfono o sigues ignorando el mundo?" (You gonna check your phone or keep ignoring the world?)

I exhaled through my nose, leaning back against the chair.

"Leslie already told me to stay off social media," I said, stretching my arms over my head.

Benito arched a brow. "Ah. Entonces el cabrón está haciendo drama." (Ah. So the asshole is making drama.)

I shrugged, picking at a piece of toast. "Probably."

He studied me for a moment, then tilted his head. "¿Y cómo te sientes con eso?" (And how do you feel about that?)

I sighed, twirling my fork between my fingers. "I feel...done."

Benito said nothing, just nodded, like he was waiting for me to go on.

I set my fork down. "I asked Leslie to make sure he got all his shit out of my house. I don't want any trace of him in my space."