Raelynn's thoughts scattered when she heard footsteps, followed by a plate being placed in front of her. She blinked, her mouth slightly ajar as she stared down at the burrito—a perfectly wrapped and golden-brown masterpiece. She looked up slowly, meeting Elion's gaze, who stood there with an almost smug grin tugging at his lips.
"Eat up," he ordered. "And don't do anything funny again after this."
Raelynn quickly snapped her mouth shut and straightened in her seat, trying to compose herself. He can cook? The idea of Elion, with his sharp suits and commanding presence, standing in a kitchen preparing food was beyond her imagination. He hadn't looked flustered or out of place; there was no sign of hesitation, no evidence of struggle. He had looked like he belonged there.
