Primrose moved with a quiet efficiency, her movements precise and purposeful. The black leggings and gray sports bra clung to her athletic form, accentuating her lean muscle tone. She swiftly gathered her hair into a neat ponytail, revealing the delicate curve of her neck and the sharp angles of her jawline.
She didn't bother with makeup or jewelry – practicality was paramount. Her focus was entirely on the run ahead, on the rhythm of her body and the feel of the morning air against her skin.
She slipped out of the penthouse apartment and into the building's private gym, a stateoftheart facility equipped with treadmills, weights, and cardio machines. But Primrose wasn't interested in any of that. She preferred to run outdoors, to feel the pulse of the city beneath her feet.
The Sicilian sun beat down on Primrose as she made her way back to the apartment building, the weight of the grocery bags a minor inconvenience. The hour and a half run had been invigorating, clearing her mind and sharpening her senses. She felt a surge of energy coursing through her veins, ready to tackle whatever the day might bring.
As she stepped into the elevator, she blinked a few times, adjusting to the sudden shift from bright sunlight to the cool, artificial light of the interior. The bags of groceries felt heavier now, filled with fresh produce and ingredients for her culinary experiments.
She walked towards her floor, her steps measured and deliberate. As she passed by one of the apartments, a man briefly glanced at her – his eyes lingering for a fraction of a second longer than necessary. Primrose registered his gaze without pause, filing it away as inconsequential.
The casual inquiry from Isaac was a welcome distraction from the unsettling feeling that still lingered in the air. He bounded towards her as she scanned her access card, his face radiating an infectious enthusiasm.
"Hey Primrose what will you make for breakfast!?" he asked, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.
Primrose's expression softened slightly, a hint of amusement flickering in her eyes. She allowed herself a small smile before responding.
"Waffles, bacon, eggs, and fresh orange," she stated matteroffactly, already mentally mapping out the steps involved in preparing the meal. It was a classic combination, comforting and satisfying – the perfect way to start the day.
The kitchen transformed into a whirlwind of controlled activity as Primrose began to prepare breakfast. She moved with a quiet efficiency, her movements precise and practiced. The stateoftheart appliances responded to her touch with effortless grace, humming softly as she put them to work.
First, the bacon sizzled in a cast iron skillet, releasing a tantalizing aroma that quickly filled the penthouse apartment. Next, she whisked the eggs with a practiced hand, adding a splash of cream and a pinch of salt and pepper. The batter for the waffles flowed smoothly from the measuring cup, ready to be poured onto the hot waffle iron.
Fresh oranges were peeled and segmented with surgical precision, their vibrant juice glistening in the morning light.
The scent of cooking food mingled with the subtle fragrance of her Night Elixir, creating an intoxicating blend that permeated the air.
Isaac watched, mesmerized, as Primrose orchestrated the culinary ballet. He leaned against the kitchen island, a contented smile playing on his lips. It was a scene he could happily get used to waking up to the aroma of delicious food and the quiet competence of the woman he considered his partner.
"You know," he said, breaking the comfortable silence.
"You should really open a restaurant. You'd be famous overnight."
Primrose didn't respond immediately, her focus entirely on the task at hand. She flipped the bacon with a deft flick of her wrist, ensuring it was cooked to crispy perfection.
"Fame is fleeting," she finally said, her voice calm and measured.
"And unnecessary."
She plated the waffles, bacon, eggs, and orange segments with an artistic flair, arranging them on a pristine white platter.
"Plus I am the founder of the Phoenix Palace Restaurant that are around the world," Primrose said and Isaac dropped his water bottle.
Isaac's water bottle clattered to the floor, the sound echoing in the otherwise serene penthouse apartment. His jaw dropped, his eyes wide with disbelief.
"You… what?!" he stammered, struggling to process the information.
"You founded Phoenix Palace? The Phoenix Palace?! That's… that's a global empire! They have restaurants in every major city! It's legendary!"
He was genuinely stunned. He knew Primrose was talented, incredibly so, but he had no idea she was behind one of the most successful restaurant chains in the world. He'd always assumed she was just… extraordinarily gifted at cooking. Not a culinary mogul.
"But… you never told me!" he exclaimed, gesturing wildly.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I forgot about it," Primrose said.
Primrose's nonchalant response.
"I forgot about it" – only deepened Isaac's bewilderment. She delivered the line with the same calm detachment she displayed when discussing finances or security protocols, as if casually mentioning she'd once forgotten to pay a parking ticket.
He sputtered, trying to find the words to express his astonishment.
"You forgot about founding a global restaurant empire?! That's… that's insane! How could you possibly forget something like that?"
Primrose shrugged, a gesture that somehow managed to convey both indifference and amusement.
"It was a long time ago," she said, her gaze drifting towards the panoramic view of Palermo.
"And I've been preoccupied with other things."
She didn't elaborate, didn't offer any further explanation for her seemingly selective memory.
Primrose placed the breakfast platter on the sleek marble dining table, the vibrant colors of the food a striking contrast against the minimalist décor. The aroma of bacon and waffles filled the air, momentarily distracting Isaac from his stillunresolved shock over the Phoenix Palace revelation.
He eagerly dug in, savoring each bite with gusto. After finishing a few bites he looked up from his food and asked.
"Prim, what do you want today?"
Primrose looked up from her own breakfast, her expression thoughtful. She chewed slowly, deliberately, before responding.
"Explore," she said finally, her voice measured.
"I also need to do more research about my birth family."
The request hung in the air, a subtle shift in tone signaling a return to the serious business at hand. Isaac swallowed his last bite of bacon, his playful demeanor instantly replaced with a more attentive focus. He recognized the gravity in Primrose's voice, the quiet determination that underscored her every action.
"Of course," he said, nodding slowly.
"Sicily is a good place to start. Lots of historical records, old families… I can pull some strings, access archives that aren't publicly available." He paused, studying her face for any sign of hesitation or reluctance.
"Anything specific you're looking for? Names? Locations? Any details at all?"
He knew that delving into her past would be a delicate and potentially dangerous undertaking. Her birth family was shrouded in mystery, and uncovering their secrets could expose them to unforeseen risks.
"Wait find where the Ashwood are living now I know they are now in Sicily on some expensive neighborhood they would know," Primrose said indifferently and her voice was cold.