Milo was in the kitchen, seemingly having made me dinner.
He had finished and he was cleaning his hands in the sink. He was still in his suit with some of his tattoos on full display. Seeing him again after the ball I had crashed was an unexplainable feeling.
It felt different having to look at him knowing everything he had done to me while I was blindfolded. Did he still look at me the same? Did he still like me?
"You're here," he said. The permanent frown that was always etched on his face was gone and in its place was awe. Despite the simple clothes I had on–a pair of white woolen shorts and a cropped tee, he still looked at me like I was sexy.
"I didn't know you cooked," I said as I cleared my throat.
"There's a lot you don't know about me, little girl," he said. "Sit down and eat."
He guided me to the dining table where he had already set the plates and the food.
