Page 31 of Ripper's Redemption

“Ripper, this is... wow.” I don’t have the words.

I clutch the towel tighter around me, feeling suddenly vulnerable.

“Go get dressed,” he suggests gently. “Dinner’s ready when you are.”

“Okay,” I whisper, still stunned.

I retreat to the bedroom, finding my clothes and pulling them on mechanically.

My mind races, trying to figure out the two sides of Ripper—the cocky son of a bitch who agreed to be my fake boyfriend with the one who planned this beautiful dinner.

Maybe, just maybe, there’s more to him than I thought.

And maybe, this isn’t just some ruse to him anymore.

Maybe he has feelings for me.

As I walk back into the room, the warmth of the fire and the inviting spread before me make it hard to remember why this can’t be real.

For tonight, I’ll let myself believe in the kindness, the hope, but I refuse to let myself grow more attached to him.

I take a seat at the small, rustic table. “Why did you do all this?”

The candlelight flickers, casting soft shadows across Ripper’s face, making him look almost gentle.

“Your birthday,” he says simply, his eyes meeting mine. “Figured you deserved something special.”

My heart skips a beat.

It’s been so long since anyone celebrated my birthday. “You remembered?”

“Of course. It’s the whole reason you were taking this trip,” he replies, his tone matter-of-fact. “Just ‘cause we’re in this doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to feel special. I’m your fake boyfriend, so the least I can do is give you the romance too.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, feeling a lump form in my throat.

The genuine sincerity in his words is almost too much to bear.

“Eat,” he orders, but there’s a hint of amusement in his voice. “Made your favorite.”

I glance down at the steaming plates before us. My favorite—spaghetti carbonara.

The smell is intoxicating, rich, and creamy with just the right amount of garlic.

I take a bite, the flavors exploding in my mouth.

“How’d you know?” I mumble through a mouthful.

“Got my sources," he says, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Well, you nailed it,” I admit, savoring another bite.

We fall into an easy rhythm, chatting about nothing and everything.

He tells me stories from the road, some funny, some harrowing.

For a moment, it’s like we’re just two people who are actually together, not a woman determined to get under her father’s skin and the man who agreed to it.

“Tell me about your family,” I prompt, curiosity getting the better of me.

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