Page 135 of Unleashed

"I haven’t heard from you since this morning," I said, irritation bubbling up.

"Yeah, I know. It’s been a long day." His voice shifted, a subtle plea hidden in the casualness. "Come to our apartment."

"For what?" I asked, my frustration biting. I hadn’t been back there in days, avoiding the space that used to feel like home but now felt foreign, like everything was in limbo.

"Dinner," he said firmly. "I want to be alone with you."

I hesitated. This wasn’t a good idea, not with everything unsaid between us. "Slade, it’s not?—"

"Just come over. Stop giving me a hard time," he interrupted, his tone sharpening.

I sighed. "Fine. I’ll be there in half an hour, but I’m not staying."

"It’s Friday," he said, as if that explained everything.

"So?" I snapped. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"You can stay out past your curfew," he teased, a chuckle in his voice.

"You're impossible," I muttered, despite a small smile tugging at my lips.

"That’s what they tell me."

"Let me get my stuff together," I said, already shutting down my laptop.

The office was quiet as I gathered my things, only a few colleagues still hunched over their desks. They glanced at me, nodding briefly before returning to their work, oblivious to the mess my personal life had become. I couldn’t stop thinking about Michael—his last text had been a line from a song that had made my heart ache. But now I was headed back to Slade.

When I finally reached the apartment, it was just before seven. I opened the door to darkness, save for the soft glow of candlelight scattered around the living room. The air was thick with the smell of something delicious.

"Slade?" I called, cautiously stepping inside.

"Come in, baby," his voice drifted from the dining area, low and inviting.

I hesitated by the foyer, my hand hovering over the light switch.

"Don’t," he warned softly.

I dropped my hand, squinting in the dim light. "What is this?"

"A thank you," he said. "For working with me. For giving us a chance."

I slipped off my coat, tossing it over the couch with my purse, trying to read his mood. As I stepped toward the dining area, I found him seated at the small table we’d added months ago. It was set with our best china, the silverware neatly arranged, and he... he was wearing an apron over his blue slacks and white shirt. The sight almost made me laugh.

"Dinner is served," he said, standing and pulling out a chair for me with a flourish.

"What did you make?" I asked, a little warily, as I sat.

"Filet mignon, jasmine rice, and roasted asparagus," he said, sitting across from me, his eyes softening as he watched me.

"You remembered I love roasted asparagus." My voice came out quieter than I’d intended, touched despite myself.

"Of course I remembered." He smiled, though there was something strained beneath it. "You said you were starving, right?"

I nodded, realizing how long it had been since we’d had a quiet moment like this, just the two of us.

"And dessert," he added, leaning back slightly with a smirk, "but I didn’t make it. I bought it."

I raised an eyebrow. "Chocolate mousse cake?"

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