Fifty shades of Beaumont // Randy

Chapter 15

'I wonder if we should continue your basic training.'

Chapter 15: Cooking
Andy's point of view.

Lights fill the room, Waking me up from a deep sleep. I stretch out and open my eyes. It's a beautiful May morning, London at my feet. Wow, what a view. Beside me, Ryan Beaumont is fast asleep. Wow, what a view. I'm surprised he's still in bed. He's facing me, and I have an unprecedented opportunity to study him. His lovely face looks younger, relaxed in sleep. His sculptured, pouty lips are parted slightly, and his shiny, clean hair is a glorious mess. How could anyone look this good and still be legal?

I remember his room upstairs... perhaps he's not legal. I shake my head, so much to think about. It's tempting to reach out and touch him, but like a small child, he's so lovely when he's asleep. I don't have to worry about what I'm saying, what he's saying, what plans he has, especially his plans for me.

I could gaze at him all day, but I have needs — bathroom needs. Slipping out of bed, I find Ryan's white shirt on the floor and shurg it on. I walk through a door thinking that it might be the bathroom, but I'm in a vast walk-in closet as big as my bedroom. Lines and lines of expensive suits, shirts, shoes, and ties. How can anyone needs so many clothes? I tut with disapproval. Actually, Brook's wardrobe probably rivals this. Brook! Oh no. I didn't think about him all evening. I was supposed to text him. Crap. I'm going to be in trouble. I wonder briefly, how's he getting on with Sonny?

Returning to the bedroom, Ryan is still asleep. I try the other door. It's the bathroom, and it's bigger than my bedroom. Why does one man needs so much space? Two sinks, I notice with irony. Given he doesn't sleep with anyone, one of them can't have been used.

I stare at myself in the gigantic mirror above the sinks. Do I look different? I feel different. I feel a little sore, if I'm honest, and my muscles — jeez it's like I've never done any exercise in my life. You don't do any exercise in your life, my subconscious has woken. So I've slept with him, given him my virginity, a man who doesn't love me. In fact, he has very odd ideas about me, wants to make me some sort of kinky sex slave.

Are you crazy? My subconscious is shouting at me. I wince as I look in the mirror. I am going to have to process all this. Honestly, fancy falling for a man who's beyond beautiful, richer than Croesus, and has a Red Room of Pain waiting for me. I shudder, I'm confused.

My hair is a mess. Just fucked hair doesn't suit me. I try and bring order to the chaos with my fingers but fail miserably and give up.

I'm starving. I head back out to the bedroom. Sleeping beauty is still sleeping, so I leave him and head for the kitchen.

Oh no... Brook. I left my jacket in Ryan's study. I fetch it and reach for my cell phone. Three texts from Brook.

'R U OK FOVVS?!'

'Where R U FOVVS?!'

'Damn it Fovvs!'

I call him. When he doesn't answer, I leave him a groveling message to tell him that I'm alive and have not succumbed to bluebeard, well not in the sense he would be worried about — or perhaps, I have. Oh this is so confusing. I have to try and categorize and analyze my feelings for Ryan. It's an impossible task. I shake my head in defeat. I need alone time, away from here to think.

I take my iPod out of my jacket and plug my headphones in. There's nothing like music to cook by. I slip it into the breast pocket of Ryan's shirt, turn it up loud, and start dancing. Holly hell I'm hungry.

I am daunted by his kitchen. It's so sleek and modern and none of the cupboards have handles. It takes me a few seconds to deduce that I have to push the cupboard to open them. Perhaps I should cook him breakfast. He was eating an omelet the other day.. um yesterday, jeez so much has happened since then. I check in the fridge, where there are plenty of eggs, and I decide I want pancakes and bacon. I set about making some batter, dancing my way around the kitchen.