Page 103 of Fifth Avenue Devil

“It was not my leggings, thank you very much.” Annalise flushes. “People in New York City will take anything that’s not nailed down.”

I study her face for any signs of regret or hesitation. “You’re happy, though?”

She comes over to hug me. “More than happy. I’m just overwhelmed. My parents being in the news hasn’t been the easiest thing for me. The media might have exonerated me, but they are still hounding me to give an interview. Then I was just packing up my apartment…”

“I told you to let the moving company do all of that,” I chide.

“I know. It’s just… It was hard to get rid of some things, knowing that my mom would’ve had a fit. She has very… very strong feelings… about decor…” Her voice wobbles and she sniffles. "I just can't believe my parents fled to Montenegro just to avoid prison time. What will happen to their properties? What about the house I grew up in?"

“The one that has no sign of you ever having lived there?” I ask.

Annalise winces. “That isn’t my point, Nate.”

I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her close. “I’m sorry that you’re going through this. My offer to buy your dad’s house when the estate is settled is still on the table.” I kiss her head. “Besides. You’re building your own life now. A better life. In this life, you can decorate your own house and pick out your own clothes.”

"Thank you," she whispers, leaning into my embrace. "Seriously, thank you for making this feel like home."

"Annalise, this isn't just my home anymore. It's ours. And soon, hopefully, it will return to looking like a chic penthouse and not a habitat for wild raccoons.”

“Nate.” She laughs. “I’m trying to be vulnerable with you.”

“Sorry.” I suck in a deep breath and then exhale, looking into her eyes. “You know I love you. I always will.”

"Do you promise?"

"Absolutely," I say. I brush a stray curl from her forehead. "I’ve got you. As long as you have me too, we’ll crush any obstacles in our way."

"Sounds good to me. As long as you still cuddle me tonight.”

I feign shock, my eyes widening in mock horror. "May I remind you that I am a ruthless mogul?"

"As long as you’remyruthless mogul, that sounds right to me.”.

I give her a possessive kiss that leaves us both breathless. Just then, a lean figure in a tailored suit appears before us, his impatience radiating off him like an overpowering cologne. Javier, our stylish wedding planner, taps his polished leather shoe on the marble floor as if he's been waiting for hours.

"Don’t we have a wedding to plan?" He eyes Annalise and me with a mixture of irritation and relief. "We have so much to discuss. Wedding invitations, floral arrangements, cake designs... If you follow me through this post-apocalyptic scene in your foyer, I have set up a cake tasting in the vortex of boxes that used to be your kitchen."

I raise my eyebrows at Annalise as I let her pull me into the kitchen. Javier was right; there are piles of boxes on every surface except the marble island. There, thirty slices of cake on individual plates with little toothpick signs await us.

"Behold." Javier waves his hands, clearly proud of his handiwork. “A cascade of flavors for you to taste!"

"Wow, Javier," Annalise breathes. Her eyes widen in disbelief at the sheer number of options. "Where do we even start?"

Javier is all smiles. "The bakery sent your classic vanilla and chocolate, as you can see. There are also more adventurous flavors like lavender and passionfruit."

"An impressive selection," I acknowledge. “I’ll admit, looking at these cakes makes me feel a little excited about the day.”

Javier’s eyes narrow. “The hundreds of thousands you have already spent on your fantasy venue, top-of-the-line caterers, and ten thousand white lilies… none of that excited you. But this does?”

“It sems more real when I’m about to eat cake.” Looking at Annalise, I shrug. “It’s your world, Kitten. I’m just living in it.”

“Well said.” She brandishes a fork at me. “Let’s start tasting, Mr. Fordham.”

I taste ten pieces of cake before I put my fork down on a plate and push it away. “What was this one? Cappuccino? Yeah, definitely not cappuccino.Blech.”

Annalise tries a final cake, makes a face, and then spits it out in a napkin. “Oh god. Don’t try the lavender. It’s like soap. Ugh, I can still taste it.” She picks another cake and samples it to get the flavor out of her mouth.

“I don’t suppose you want to try any?” I ask Javier.

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