Derek ⚣ ✓

13. Let Him Cook

I immediately inhaled, coughing on my spit as it travelled down the wrong tube.

John looked up from cracking an egg, to catch my eye. "You okay?" He asked me, but there was something else in his eyes when he caught mine.

My hand went to cover my mouth as I faked a few more coughs to cover up my surprise. "Allergies," I replied with.

"Now who the fuck is that?" The voice over the video call demanded, continuing. "Please don't tell me you've got another one of your nightly escapades in on this call with us. As your advisor, I cannot begin to tell you how many violations-"

John hit that mute button so fast, it sounded like someone took the needle off a record. Or unplugged the radio. I'm dating myself again, aren't I?

"Don. Donald. Donny boy," he spoke gently down next to his computer screen, "you are still very much on speaker. I'm going to take you off mute now, and the next sentence should be chosen carefully with as much grace as I know you have in you."

I kept my gaze on John, watching more of his Hulk Hogan like arms tense as he pushed himself up from his laptop, but this time he refused to meet mine.

Trying to seduce him?

Nightly escapades?

I didn't even have time to process that, because a moment later, John hit that same button and Don- I guess his name was Don? came through the speaker once again.

"Well excuse my stupidity, I didn't know we'd have an audience this morning during a highly confidential financial review." John transferred the mixed eggs and veggies into the hot pan, ignoring Don's very chosen words.

"Breakfast is almost done, we'll be wrapped up before the call," John insisted. I watched him handle the pan expertly, while each muscle in his ridiculously Ken shaped body rippled like a chain reaction at each move. And in his defense, the eggs were taking literal seconds to cook.

"Yes, before that call. We still have this call to review our workload. Which I shouldn't have to add, is also highly fucking confidential."

I was starting to believe the man before me invented the art of multitasking, because he was doing it all. He got a good flip on the omelette (after adding some cheese to it, thank the heavens), then removed the coffee he was brewing from his coffee maker. The smell of both the omelette and coffee together was making my stomach start to growl, and as if on cue, John began plating.

"Trust me," he glanced up at me slightly, "I don't think we have much to worry about. He works for Ivanov Corp. Plus we've already bed the company, there's no secrets between Ivanov and Mavericks."

"You've got to be kidding- so now you're fucking someo-"

The speed in which John whipped around to tap that mute button again, almost sent the omelette flying off the plate. My stomach was thanking every god known to man that it didn't, and he was still able to set it in front of me moments later.

A fork and cup of coffee soon followed, but he avoided my gaze once again. Then he plated his own omelette, poured his own cup of joe, and I thought he was going to turn back to his computer, but he instead rummaged through one of the kitchen drawers. Seconds after, his hand retrieved some Bluetooth ear buds and he put one in his ear.

It was only after he got everything connected, did he turn to me with one of those stellar smiles, finally met my gaze, and said "Eat."

I chuckled nervously, offering a small 'thanks' before picking up my fork. Everything about this call felt weird, but the food in front of me distracted me immediately.