A Minor Technicality [Completed] *Slowly Editing*

Chapter 10 - Late Night Snack

Luca's POV

Sharing a bed with Rachel after I rejected her advances had to rank as one of the most awkward experiences of my life. My mind was restless and I tried to keep to my side of the large bed, but Rachel kept creeping over to my side to snuggle. I swear she was only pretending to be asleep, but how did I prove that? After several hours of wandering thoughts and physical discomfort, I decided to head to the kitchen to get a snack. At the very least, it would give me a short reprieve from the uneasiness of sleeping next to the person I was currently trying to extricate from my life.

I slipped quietly from the bed, freezing momentarily when Rachel began to stir. She groaned and shifted her body until she was facing the other direction, and I sighed in relief when her breathing became soft and steady once again.

To avoid further unwanted advances, I had gone to bed wearing a pair of flannel pants and a t-shirt. Usually, I slept in just a pair of boxers, but I didn't want to risk Rachel taking liberties while I slept. That was frequently the start to our sexual encounters. What man can say no when he wakes completely aroused with someone's hand or mouth around his shaft? It's virtually impossible, and I wanted to take as many precautions as I could to prevent that from happening during the trip.

I silently made my way to the bedroom door and slipped into the hall. Closing the door carefully behind me, I crept down the hallway, listening for any voices. After the debacle that was dinner with Rachel's family, I didn't really feel like running into her father.

When I was certain the coast was clear, I made my way down the stairs, through the enormous foyer, and down the passageway that led to the servant's quarters. About halfway down the hall, a door was open, light illuminating the dark corridor from the large kitchen. Glancing into the huge room, I noticed the light was only coming from the hood above the gas stove. Since the room was empty, I flipped the light switch, flooding the room with brightness.

I headed to the two refrigerators across the room, hoping the cook had leftovers stored in plain sight. I'd hardly been able to eat during the family meal. I grinned in delight when I saw platters of pre-sliced roast lamb, a container of a sauce made from Greek-yogurt, mint, and some other ingredients made to tantalize the taste buds. Roasted potato wedges were stored in a dish to the left of the lamb, and all of the fixings for a fantastic Greek salad were on the lower shelf.

I began humming playfully as I started to unload the vessels of culinary delight from the fridge for transport to the nearby counter. Within minutes, a plate full of food was prepared. I hated to reheat it in the microwave, but I had no other choice, as my love for food didn't extend much past eating it. My Italian heritage meant that family events were laden with delicious food and drink, but my mother had spent all her time in the kitchen with Alessandra. As a boy, I was usually relegated to the yard with the men, although summers did give way to time at the grill with my father. I may have been useless in the kitchen, but I was a grill master.

While the aroma of my lamb and potatoes wafted through the kitchen from the microwave, I finished preparing a large salad full of Kalamata olives, feta cheese, pepperoncini, tomatoes and cucumber. My mouth watered at the sight.

When the microwave announced my dinner was ready, I carried my plates and silverware to the table and then retrieved a large glass of iced tea from the fridge. As I settled into my chair, I allowed my mind to wander as I savored the taste of each bite.

Shortly after my argument with Rachel, her father arrived home and summoned me to his office. This had become a ritual during each trip, and Sanford Kelly took each opportunity to interrogate me regarding my intentions toward Rachel. This time, however, Sanford was surprised to learn that I had brought a young ward with me. His suspicions about the nature of my relationship with Blythe had put an added strain on our conversation, and the tension caused by the accusation had overflowed into dinner.