Nico
"And this is my kitchen," Alaric muttered through a tired yawn as he led me farther into the penthouse.
The kitchen looked exactly the way I imagined Alaric De Villier's kitchen would look.
Elegant. Expensive. Painfully organized.
Dark marble countertops stretched beneath warm golden lighting while sleek black cabinets lined the walls with almost obsessive neatness.
The massive kitchen island at the center looked untouched, like nobody had properly cooked there in weeks. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked Monaco's skyline, allowing pale afternoon sunlight to spill softly across the polished surfaces while the silver appliances gleamed beneath the light.
The entire room looked beautiful in a cold, intimidating sort of way.
It barely looked lived in at all.
Alaric pointed lazily toward one of the drawers beside the counter.
