Seventy Shades Of Steele

Seventy Shades Of Steele(16)

*Alexander's POV*

There's something wrong with me. Like a disease for the mind. An illness for the soul. A weakness of the heart.

Does any of that make sense to me? Not even a little bit, but it's true. It's there. And it's eating me alive. At least that's what it feelings like.

Taking a deep breath, I close the door behind me as I take the steps two at a time going down the stairs.

It's not that I am scared of what's happening. I am pretty sure this thing between us will burn out. Not that I have ever slept with a woman that hasn't signed a contract. Or have I tried to stop one to ever not slip out of bed and leave. I am not that stupid to realize that was her goal. Not that I stopped her from slipping out of bed. I merely shut all windows of escape which is so not me. I usually would be elated that the woman knew exactly where she stood and there was not really a morning after to suffer from. Although I have always had the women leave immediately after the deed was done. At that thought, I can see how women think I am cold. I probably was, but with Angie, I am not sure that's true. Not anymore at least.

I still can't understand how an internationally known symphonist and if my memory serves me right, a model at one point is -was- a virgin. I seriously never knew that could happen.

I enter to the kitchen to see cook, Frank, already looking about breakfast. He salutes me with a grin.

"I have to say," he starts with a grin as he takes out the butter. "Never in my five years working for you have you requested for me to look about breakfast for you. I was starting to think my breakfast skills were going to waste if it wasn't for my wife. Woke up on the right side of the bed this morning?"

"I must admit I usually have my assistant bring me coffee," I shrug as he shakes his head. Sometimes I wonder what I would do without him over the years. I grew up either not eating or eating take out. Not that I can't cook, I have done my fair share of lasagnas, fried chicken, steak and the likes. I have not found the time and to be real, cooking has never been something I really enjoyed. Despite only hiring him on an impulsive decision, one of the few impulsive choices I have made, without even an interview, he turned out quite good. "But today I have family matters and I think I am going to need a good and big start for the day so I won't be forced to endure my mother's company on an empty stomach. Just hearing her voice makes me lose my appetite."

He chuckles at that as he begins cooking up some pancakes, waffles and chicken.

"So who's the unfortunate lady?" He inquires and I tense. He raises his eyebrows at me and I don't know what to really say. Am I that transparent? I have never been that before. "Oh, come on. You don't expect me to think you just woke up and though 'hey let me order all sorts of food breakfast for the first time in five years'. I'm forty eight, not twelve. Besides you ordered milk along with the coffee. You hate any type of coffee that isn't black."

"Okay, fine," I raise my hands in the air in surrender. He chuckles at that, whisking up some eggs. "But don't tell that wife of yours. She won't stop talking about it."

"She's a keeper, huh?" He says and I shrug. "You better know. You might not be lucky as I am to find the love of your life, lose her and get her again. Pretty sure getting married twice to the same person isn't what you want either. But seeing you now, actually caring about my wife talking your ears off for once in your life, I take that as a good sign. Just don't completely screw up."

"Completely?" I raise an eyebrow and he shrugs as he serves out the omelette and goes about looking about another. He really is fast.

"Yeah," he answers. "If she's the one, you are bound to screw it up at least once. All you have to do is man up to your mistakes and make sure those mistakes stay mistakes which means to not do it again. Doing it again doesn't make it a mistake anymore."