And for the first time since we arrived in Bravonne, the future doesn’t feel quite so uncertain.
Episode 25: Command Performance
Florence
My alarm goes off far too early for my liking. I’ve never been a naturally early riser. If left to my own devices, I’m a champion sleeper.
“Wha-” Court yawns from where he’s wrapped around me. He came in late last night, smelling of soap and paint. Like he’d tried to wash it off but quit halfway through in favor of coming to bed and cuddling me.
“It’s nothing,” I whisper to him. “Go back to sleep.”
He grunts and then pulls me tighter against him when I try to wiggle my way out from between him and Grieves.
I’m not entirely sure how this happened, but we all end up piled in my bed each night. It was never explicitly stated or asked for. It just happened. Naturally.
Court was the first, because of course he was. I just woke up one morning to him wrapped around me. The next night Piers appeared at my door and I couldn’t turn him away. Grievesand Thayer were in bed with us the next morning. We’ve spelt together every night since.
And my omega loves it. So much.
“I gotta pee, pretty boy. Let me up.”
With a sigh he relinquishes his hold on me, nuzzling into my pillow instead as I carefully slip out from under the covers and down to the foot of the bed, trying to not disturb Thayer and Piers as well. A glance over my shoulder shows me Court already back asleep, but Grieves is watching me, hair a loose mess around his head.
I give him a reassuring smile, one that says,I’m not up to anything, bruiser. Go back to sleep.
He arches a brow in a way that says,I don’t believe you, bubbles.
I shrug and grab a discarded cardigan off the floor that smells like Thayer, pulling it on over my sleep shorts and cami, and then pad on quiet feet out of the room and into the kitchen.
The faint sound of a running shower reaches my ears as I start the coffee maker, and then get started on making breakfast.
By the time Forsythe strides into the kitchen, fully dressed for the day in a charcoal suit, light blue shirt, and navy tie, I have a place set for him at the island, a plate of breakfast in one hand and a steaming mug of coffee in the other.
He draws up short when he sees me, eyes widening almost comically, like seeing me up this early is on par with seeing a ghost. “Florence.”
“Forsythe.” I set the plate of food on the placemat on the island along with the coffee, and then motion to the chair. “Sit.”
He looks at the food, the coffee, then the door and then me. “I don’t really have the time,cor mea. I’m sorry. I have an early morning meeting-”
“Forsythe.” His mouth snaps closed at my harsh tone. “Sit down, eat your breakfast and talk to me or I will pack my bags and go home today.”
His face folds into a frown. “I don’t respond well to threats, Florence.”
“Is that a threat? It doesn’t seem to me like you care one way or another if I’m here. I’ve been here over a week and this is the first time since you dropped me off at this apartment that we’ve said more than two words to each other. Meanwhile, you’ve been seen out with Isadora twice, Forsythe. Twice.”
The muscles in his jaw flex like he’s gritting his teeth. Like he wants to say something but is holding back the words. I wish he wouldn’t, wish he’d just say whatever the hell he wants to.
“If you want me to stay here, your highness, you’re going to have to sit your ass down and convince me to. Now. Or I’m gone.”
He glances at the door again, and then his watch, like he’s calculating how much time he can waste on my request and goddammit, it hurts.
“Fine,” he says tightly, moving to the chair and sitting in it stiffly.
“Well, don’t do me any favors,” I mutter, grabbing my own cup of coffee and taking the chair next to him.
He stares down at the food, not touching his fork, not even reaching for the coffee.
“I didn’t poison it,” I say after a moment. “And I do know how to cook.”