Reborn: The Duke's Obsession-Chapter 59 - Fifty Nine

"Whoa," Eric said, a low laugh in his voice as he easily took the box from her. He looked down at his prize. He opened the lid and saw six pieces of lopsided, brightly colored, and slightly burnt cookies.

He looked at the strange creations, a genuinely confused expression on his face. He then looked at her, then back at the cookies. "What are they?" he asked, his tone a mixture of curiosity and amusement. "Are they... decorative saucers?"

"I made them," Delia replied, her cheeks flushing a deep red.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You made these?" he asked, a wide grin spreading across his face. She nodded miserably. He turned the box a full 360 degrees, examining the misshapen cookies from all angles as if they were some strange artifact. "Are you absolutely sure they aren’t saucers?" he asked again, teasing her gently.

She shook her head, her embarrassment growing. "No, it’s food. They are cookies."

"C-cookies?" he stammered, looking at the box in his hand with mock terror.

This was too much. Delia wanted the evidence of her baking failure to disappear forever. "I’ll just throw it out," she declared. "Give it to me." She raised herself up on her tiptoes, her hands stretching up to try and snatch the box from him.

But it was no use. Eric, who was a full head taller than her, simply raised the box high above his head, well out of her reach. The more she jumped, trying to grab it from his hand, the higher he raised it, a look of pure, boyish amusement on his face.

"What are you doing?" she asked, finally giving up and planting her feet firmly on the floor, her hands on her hips.

"I’m sure they taste good," Eric replied, ignoring her question, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Delia lowered her hands and stepped aside, defeated. Seeing her surrender, Eric slowly lowered the box. He looked at her, at her blue eyes that were now pleading with him, silently begging him not to eat one. He took one of the cookies from the box. He held it up, examined its strange, bumpy texture, and then, maintaining eye contact with her, he took a large bite.

The effect was instantaneous. An overwhelming, cloying sweetness exploded in his mouth. It was like eating a spoonful of pure sugar mixed with strawberry perfume. He struggled to maintain his composure, his eyes watering slightly as he forced himself to swallow.

His face contorted into an expression of self suffering, as if he were about to cry.

Having pity on him, Delia quickly took the remaining piece of the cookie from his hand and threw it into the waste bin. Without a word, she took the box from him and threw the rest of the cookies away as well.

She turned to get him a glass of water to rinse the taste from his mouth. She went to the shelf where the glasses and water pitcher were kept, but the pitcher was on the highest shelf, just out of her reach. She stretched, her fingers brushing against the cool glass, but she couldn’t get a firm grip.

"What are you doing now?" Eric asked, his voice still a little hoarse from the sugary assault.

"Getting you a glass of water," Delia replied, still stretching. Let me just get a stool, she thought to herself, about to turn around.

Before she could, a hard, warm chest collided gently with the back of her head. Eric was standing directly behind her, his body caging hers against the counter. One of his hands rested on the table beside her for balance, while the other reached effortlessly over her head to where her own hand had just been.

She could feel the steady, strong beat of his heart against her back. She could feel his warm breath on her hair as he leaned over her. She could swear she felt him inhale for a moment, as if taking in the scent of her lavender shampoo. Or was she just imagining things? The sudden, unexpected intimacy made her own heart begin to race.

Eric took down the heavy pitcher and, without another word, left her side to go fill it with fresh, cool water from the pump. He left Delia standing there, her mind filled with a mixture of confusing thoughts and assumptions.

His voice snapped her back to reality. "I’ll make breakfast," he said, returning with the full pitcher. "You’ll have some, right?"

All Delia could do was nod, her voice having temporarily abandoned her.

"Go and sit down," he said, his tone gentle. "I’ll do it."

Delia wanted to protest. "But you just came back from working all night," she said. "You haven’t had any rest."

"It’s fine," Eric replied as he began to roll up his sleeves, revealing his strong forearms.

She went to sit on one of the simple wooden chairs in the kitchen, a spot usually reserved for the staff. She watched silently as he moved around the kitchen easily, cracking eggs into a bowl, slicing bread, and setting a pan on the stove. He was a Duke, a powerful businessman, and yet he seemed perfectly at home here, making a simple breakfast.

"There’s nothing wrong, right?" she finally asked, breaking the silence. "You didn’t even send a letter that you were coming back so early."

He didn’t turn around, his focus on the sizzling eggs in the pan. "I just wanted to see you," he replied simply.

The direct, honest answer left Delia with nothing to say. She just sat there, watching him.

Eric finished making a quick breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, and sliced fruit and dished it onto two plates. He set them on the small dining table in the corner of the kitchen.

They sat opposite each other. Delia looked down at the large plate of food before her. Eric, who was already eating, noticed her hesitation.

"I overdid it, didn’t I?" he asked, a sheepish smile on his face.

Delia nodded. It was more food than she usually ate in an entire day.

"I’m sorry," he said, his smile widening. "I didn’t mean to give you such a big portion. But just try to eat a little more than usual, okay? For me?"

Delia nodded again and picked up her fork. She took a small piece of the sliced bread with some of the fluffy scrambled eggs. It was delicious. Eric smiled, a look of satisfaction on his face, and continued eating his own meal.

They ate in a comfortable silence for a few minutes.

"So," Eric said, breaking the quiet. "About your things. Is that trunk all of it? Mr. Rye told me you didn’t bring much with you."

Delia replied without looking up from her plate, her voice flat and stern, a reminder of their arrangement. "I won’t be here for long, anyway."

Eric paused, his fork halfway to his mouth, the piece of soft bread resting on its tines. He looked at Delia, his warm, happy expression vanishing in an instant. The comfortable atmosphere shattered. He stared at her, but she just continued eating as though she hadn’t just said something that completely broke his heart.

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