Page 18 of Billionaire Wolf Needs a Chef

Groaning, I rolled over and buried my face in the pillow. What had I done? Scratch that. What had he done? And why hadn't I stopped him? Why had I kissed him back?

"Get it together, Ivy," I muttered to myself, sitting up and running a hand through my tangled hair. It was just a kiss. A stupid, impulsive, amazing kiss. That's all. It didn't have to mean anything. It couldn't mean anything.

Liar.

His mouth had been a brand, and I'dmelted, like some blushing schoolgirl who didn't know better. But the worst part? If he walked in right now and did it again, I'd let him.

I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. 7:03 a.m. We had breakfast together in less than an hour. Great. Just great.

I dragged myself out of bed and into the shower, hoping the hot water would wash away the memory of his touch. It didn't. By the time I was dressed, in a simple blouse and slacks, nothing too flashy, I was no closer to figuring out how to act around him.

When I walked into the hotel restaurant, Cameron was already there, seated at a table by the window. He looked as put-together as ever, but there was a stiffness in his posture that hadn't been there yesterday. His eyes met mine as I approached, and for a moment, we just stared at each other, the air between us filled with everything we left unspoken.

"Morning," I said, forcing a cheerful tone as I slid into the chair across from him.

"Morning," he replied, his voice clipped and formal. He glanced at the menu in front of him, avoiding my gaze.

An awkward silence stretched between us, broken only by the clink of silverware and the low hum of conversation from the other tables. I fiddled with my napkin, my mind racing for something to say.

"So, the conference went well yesterday," I ventured, cringing internally at how awkward I sounded.

"It did," he agreed, still not looking at me. "You were great," I added, trying to inject some positivity into the conversation.

He finally glanced up, his sharp eyes meeting mine. "So were you. You handled the crowd better than I expected."

"Thanks," I said, though his words felt more like an observation than a compliment.

The waiter arrived to take our orders, and I seized the opportunity to break the tension. "I'll have the eggs Benedict and a cappuccino, please," I said, flashing a smile.

"The ham and cheese omelet, black coffee," Cameron said curtly, handing the menu back without a word.

The waiter nodded and left, leaving us in another heavy silence. I took a sip of water, trying to steady my nerves. This was ridiculous. We were colleagues, professionals. We could handle one kiss without letting it derail everything. Right?

"Look," I began, my voice firmer now. "About last night—"

"It was a mistake," he interrupted, his tone cold and final. The words hit like a slap. His coffee cup trembled slightly before he fisted his hand, the same hand that had cradled my face so gently last night. "It won't happen again."

I blinked, taken aback by his bluntness. "A mistake?"

"Yes," he said, his gaze hardening. "We're here to work. Not whatever that was. I let my guard down, and it won't happen again."

His words stung, but I refused to let it show. "Got it," I said, forcing a smile. "We have to put the company first above all, right?"

"Exactly."

The waiter returned with our drinks, and I busied myself with my cappuccino, the bitter taste a welcome distraction. Cameron's rejection hurt more than I wanted to admit, but I couldn't let it affect my performance. I had a job to do, and I wasn't about to let him sabotage it. After we successfullylaunched the new meal kit lines and turned CCC's reputation around, I would look for a new job and put all this behind me.

By the time we arrived at the conference center, I'd steeled myself for the day ahead. The second day of FoodieCon was just as busy as the first, with attendees flooding the booths and networking events filling the schedule. I threw myself into my work, answering questions, demonstrating the meal kits, and charming everyone I met.

Cameron stayed close, his presence a constant reminder. He was all business, his demeanor cool and detached, but I could feel his eyes on me whenever I wasn't looking. It was unnerving, but I refused to let it throw me off my game.

During a break in the afternoon, I found myself alone at our booth, rearranging the samples and tidying up the display. The conference hall was quieter now, the buzz of the morning giving way to a more relaxed atmosphere. I was grateful for the moment of solitude, a chance to catch my breath and gather my thoughts.

But the peace didn't last long.

"Ms. St. Clair."

I turned to see Cameron approaching, his hands shoved into his pockets and his expression unreadable. My heart skipped a beat, but I kept my face neutral, determined not to let him see how much he affected me.

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