Page 32 of Billionaire Wolf Needs a Chef

He kissed the top of my head, his breath warm against my skin. "Always."

Epilogue

IVY

SIX MONTHS LATER

The scent of fresh paint hung in the air as I stepped into what would soon be Wildflower. The afternoon sun gilded the newly installed range hood, the stainless steel counters still wrapped in protective film. All it needed were the finishing touches, and in a few weeks, it would finally open its doors. My dream, my restaurant.

Cameron had been my rock through it all, helping me navigate permits, funding, and all the chaos that came with starting a business. He'd been patient, supportive, and, surprisingly, even cheerful. Well, cheerful for Cameron. It was like watching a storm cloud reluctantly make room for a bit of sunshine.

His arms encircled me from behind, his chin resting on my head. "It suits you," he murmured. "All fire and shine."

I turned in his embrace, brushing flour from his shirt collar. It was a remnant of last night's disastrous but endearing attempt at baking me croissants. "You're getting domestic, Cameron."

His nose wrinkled, but the bond between us thrummed with contentment. "Don't spread that rumor. I have a reputation to uphold."

Tonight, he'd insisted on taking me out to celebrate the finalization of the menu. After a short trip home to get dressed, I'd expected dinner at Amalfi, but when he drove us back to the restaurant site, I was confused.

"Why are we stopping here?" I asked, glancing at him.

He just grinned, that rare, almost boyish smile that always made my heart skip a beat. "You'll see."

He led me inside, and I gasped. The space, which had been a construction zone just hours earlier, was transformed. A hundred candles flickered from strategically placed locations across the room, casting a soft, romantic glow. A table for two was set up in the center of the room, complete with a bouquet of my favorite wildflowers.

"Cameron," I breathed, turning to give him a curious look. "What is all this?"

"A celebration," he said simply, pulling out a chair for me. "For you, Chef."

As I sat down, I noticed something else, the kitchen was spotless, but not empty. There were pots simmering on the newly installed stove, the aroma of garlic and herbs filling the air. It wasn't just a dinner. He'd cooked for me.

My jaw dropped. "You cooked?"

"I may have hijacked your kitchen," he admitted, cheeks flushing as he presented slightly charred scallops. "Happy almost-opening night, Chef."

I laughed, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. "You're full of surprises, Fitzgerald."

The meal was, well, it was edible. The scallops were rubbery. The beurre blanc had split. I devoured every bite because it was the best thing I'd ever tasted. Because he'd made it for me. Because he'd tried.

When he produced chocolate mousse from the fridge, which judging by the perfect quenelle, was store-bought, I caught his wrist. "You cheat."

His laugh faded as he suddenly turned serious. "Ivy," he began, his voice trembling with emotion. "These past six months have been the best of my life. You've brought light and laughter into my world, and I don't want to imagine a future without you."

My breath caught as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box. He got down on one knee, his eyes locked on mine.

"Will you marry me?"

Tears streamed down my face as I nodded, my voice barely a whisper. "Yes. Yes, of course, yes!"

He slipped the ring onto my finger, a stunning diamond that sparkled in the candlelight. Then he stood, pulling me into his arms and kissing me deeply. At that moment, everything in my life felt perfect.

ONE YEAR LATER

The wedding was held at my restaurant, now a bustling, successful spot loved by locals and food critics alike. It was a small and intimate gathering, with Denver as his best man and Katie as my matron of honor. Only our closest friends and family were attending the ceremony. Despite my brief flirtation with fame, this event was not going to be publicized. The space was decorated with candles and wildflowers, the same as the night Cameron had proposed.

I stood in the back room, taking deep breaths as Katie adjusted my veil.

"You look stunning," she said, her eyes misty. "Cameron's going to turn feral when he sees you."

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