Fame: Makes a Man Think Things Over

Marching Orders

Ben told his team we were going to take a time-out. He led me to the kitchen, where yet another staff member was cooking. He introduced me to Chef Martin, who stood there fierce in a chef's uniform. He was sharpening knives.

Ben went to the refrigerator and pulled out supplies to make sandwiches. Chef Martin barked at him.

"Mr. Solo, remove yourself from my refrigerator, please. I will make the sandwiches."

Ben set the fixings down on the giant butcher block. "Have it your way, Chef," Ben said, mildly.

"I certainly will. Shoo."

Ben and I sat at a kitchen table and watched the chef make sandwiches with rapid ease. He plunked them down on the table and returned with a selection of drinks.

We ate in silence. Ben snuck glances at me to see if I was all right. Food always helped my frame of mind.

After clearing our plates, Chef said, "Save room for dinner, Mr. Solo, Miss Jackson. I will prepare filet mignon with wild mushrooms, pilaf, braised root vegetables perhaps, and micro-green salads. Wine from the cellar, of course. Perhaps a rich Zinfandel. Or cabernet. Your choice. I can open both and let you taste, Miss."

"Sounds good," I murmured, stealing a glance at a smirking Ben Solo.

"At least the cage we live in is gilded," he said. "Ask nicely and he'll make a light, fluffy chocolate mousse with homemade whipped cream. It's so good. And I don't even like sweets."

I did, especially chocolate, and my mouth was watering.

Temptation loomed, but I shook my head. "Ben, we need to talk privately," I said.

He hesitated for a moment. "All right, let's go upstairs to my suite."

After thanking Chef Martin, I followed Ben up to the same room I had been in before. "Is this the suite you shared with your ex?" I asked as we walked inside.

Ben closed the French doors behind us. "No, that was down the hall. This isn't the master."

I couldn't believe it. This suite was opulent with tray ceilings and expensive finishes on everything. The light fixture alone with its sparking crystals must have cost a small fortune.

I walked up to Ben and put my hands on his arms. He gazed at me sadly. I steeled myself. "I can't stay. I can't do this, Ben."

He sighed and pulled me close. I let him enfold me in his arms. He bent down to put his face next to mine. He mumbled into my neck, "Can we not talk about this right now? Can I just hold you close? Maybe touch each other like we did before."

"In bed?"

He straightened up and nodded, his eyes a little bright. He sniffed and looked away.

I tried to step back from him, but his arms were locked around me. He didn't seem inclined to let me go. "How can we do that, Ben? There are people all over this house. Some are waiting for us to return."

"I bet you a million dollars that they won't disturb us," he said, his face set in hard lines.

"I don't have a million dollars."

"Stick with me, baby..." he said.

"Sex is not going to solve our issues," I said.

"So the fuck what? I feel so disconnected from you, Rey. You look at me like I'm not ... like I don't ..." He stopped. "Please."

I nodded. Ben took my hand and pulled me into the next room. We lay together on the big bed, gently kissing and nuzzling each other. We took off our clothes to touch skin-to-skin, as close as we could get to one another.