Page 209 of Modern Romance Collection December 2024 Books 5-8

Maybe a glass of water might help. Her throat tightened because she didn’t want to do that. Having a glass of water would mean accepting that food was not an option. It would mean that Noah was still inside her head, controlling her, crushing her, and that wasn’t an option either.

She wasn’t some cowed prisoner; she was Tiger McIntyre’s girlfriend. Or at least that was what everyone believed.

Heart pounding, she threw back the covers and realised she was still fully clothed. Her bags had been unpacked and the contents neatly placed in the walk-in wardrobe. Ignoring the beautiful shirts hanging from the rail, she found the T-shirt she wore to sleep in, stripped, then pulled it over her head.

Back in the bedroom, she picked up the luxurious, quilted bathrobe that was artistically draped over a beautiful linen-covered armchair. It felt glorious, she thought as she wrapped the belt tightly around her waist, soft and thick but light, like being enveloped in a cloud.

The next step was to go downstairs and, not giving herself time to think, she stalked across the room and opened the door. There was nobody there. Obviously, because it was three o’clock in the morning, but there were table lamps lit and she made her way downstairs.

Having not had the ‘tour’, she had no idea where the kitchen was, but it was the first room she found, which seemed like a good sign. There was no sign of a fridge, but then a house this big would surely have a larder.

It did.

Sydney stared around the regimented rows of condiments and snacks and jars of pasta and flour and grains. Her stomach rumbled appreciatively. It was an Aladdin’s cave of food, teeming with every possible ingredient and treat.

And there was a cavernous fridge. Tentatively, she pulled on the handle. Oh, goodness, it had a door within a door so that you could see inside without opening it. She licked her lips as her eyes snagged on a plate of salad with tomatoes and bread and olives.

This would be perfect, she thought, opening the second door to retrieve the dish, then shutting the fridge doors and turning—

She gasped and almost dropped the plate.

Tiger was standing there, laptop in hand, his body blocking the doorway to the larder. ‘You know, this is becoming a habit with you. First you try to steal my IP, now you’re taking my panzanella.’

CHAPTER FIVE

SYDNEYBLINKED.

Her heart was beating so loudly she was surprised that Tiger couldn’t hear it. If only she had stayed upstairs. It was the latest in an ongoing, ever-growing list of regrets she had about the last few days. But there was nothing she could do about that now.

She cleared her throat. ‘Is that what this is called?’

Tiger nodded, and then he walked towards her and every single cell in her body exploded with panic, except it wasn’t panic. She knew panic all too well, and this was more complicated.

And contradictory.

‘It’s a Tuscan bread salad. I have my chef make it every time I visit.’

‘Here, you have it.’ She held it out towards him, and then wished she hadn’t as the movement made the robe part around her throat and she felt the flick of his gaze lick her skin like a flame.

‘Or,’ he said after several beats of silence, ‘we could share it.’

They ate in the kitchen. Tiger didn’t bother to decant the salad onto a second plate so it was a case of sharing.

‘My bad—’ Her pulse twitched as his fork collided with hers as they both tried to spear the same piece of tomato at the same time.

‘You have it,’ she said quickly, fingers tightening around the handle of the fork. She couldn’t remember the last time she had shared a plate of food with anyone and it felt oddly intimate. Too intimate. It was the kind of thing a new couple might do on their first date, order a dessert and then smugly ask the waiter for two spoons.

But she and Tiger were not a couple and, even though superficially this had all the component parts of one, this definitely wasn’t a date. More it was a ceasefire.

‘You’re the guest,’ he countered.

Her eyes flicked to his face. ‘I thought I was a pain.’

In the low lighting of the kitchen, his hair and eyes were dark, only his skin looked golden. ‘Oh, you’re that too.’

She had been here before with a different man who had made it his mission to point out her flaws. But this didn’t feel like that at all. Absurdly it felt as if his words were meant as a compliment.

‘I mean, it’s kind of what you do, isn’t it? Being two things at once.’

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