A scream from the living room had Kelvin racing out of the bathroom. He walked in to see Leila, hand placed on her chest, and eyes round with shock at Olef, his—their chef. He waved the man off and went to his wife, taking her hands. She was in a pair of cute polka-dot pajamas that made him want to take them off and kiss her all over.
“You, you know him?” she whispered.
“Yeah, Olef. He’s our chef.”
She sighed. “Oh, God. I thought… I thought…”
Anguish wrinkled her face, and he pulled her into his embrace to calm her. His arms locked around her tiny waist, and she fit so perfectly like she was meant to be there. To his dismay, she broke off the contact, took a step back, and wrapped her arms around her middle.
“You have nothing to worry about. The security here is great,” he said. “
