Page 31 of Billionaire Wolf Needs a Chef

The penthouse elevator chimed. Cameron stepped out, his tie loose and two takeout bags dangling from his fingers. "You're working late."

"Someone has to keep this empire afloat," I teased, shutting the laptop.

He set the bags on the counter. Lobster risotto with foraged wild mushrooms and squid ink pasta with a saffron sauce from Amalfi, our favorite restaurant. My stomach growled.

"Seafood and carbs?" I sniffed the air. "What's the occasion?"

He uncorked a bottle of Barolo, the rich plum scent filling the kitchen.

"Do I need one to spoil my mate? To us," he said, raising his glass. "And to everything we've overcome."

Mate. The word still sent a shiver down my spine. I clinked my glass against his, a smile tugging at my lips. "To us."

"This is nice," I said, taking a sip of my wine. "A welcome break from all the business."

Cameron reached across the table, his hand covering mine. "You've been incredible through all this. I don't know what I'd do without you."

I smiled, squeezing his hand. "We're a team. We'll get through anything as long as we're together."

As we enjoyed our meal, the conversation turned to the future, both professionally and personally. "There's something I've been wanting to talk to you about."

I froze, a forkful of risotto halfway to my mouth. "That sounds ominous." My heart skipped a beat at the seriousness in his tone. "What is it?"

He took a deep breath, his fingers tightening around mine. "Ivy, I know your dream isn't working for a test kitchen. It's owning your own restaurant. And I want to make that happen for you."

The fork clattered onto my plate. I stared at him, my mind racing. "Cameron, I don't know what to say."

He leaned forward, elbows on the table. "I've seen your sketches. The menu ideas stuffed in your nightstand. You're meant for more than test kitchens, Ivy." He flashed me a smile, a rare, genuine smile that made my heart flutter. "You have a gift, Ivy. The way you connect with food and with people. It's rare. And I'll do whatever it takes to help you make that dream happen."

My throat tightened. "Cameron—"

"I'll fund it. Full creative control. No strings. Except maybe naming a dessert after me."

I felt my cheeks warm, both from the compliment and the sincerity in his voice. "That means a lot," I said, my voice soft. "But it's a big risk. I've been burned before, and I don't want to let anyone down. Including you."

He reached across the table, his hand covering mine. "You won't let anyone down. And even if you stumble, I'll be there to catch you. We're partners, remember?."

Something about the way he said it with certainty made me believe him. For so long, I'd been afraid to dream too big, to want too much. But now, with Cameron by my side, I felt like I could take on the world.

A laugh burst out of me, edged with tears. "You're serious."

"Deadly." He caught my hand, his calloused thumb tracing my knuckles. "You've spent your life building other people's dreams. Time to build yours."

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I blinked them away. "Okay," I said, nodding slowly. "Let's do it. Let's open a restaurant."

He stood, pulling me up with him. His lips brushed my temple. "You won't be alone." It was a soft, tender kiss that spoke of promises and a future together. When he pulled back, he kept his forehead resting against mine. "This is just the beginning, Ivy. I want to give you everything."

I fisted his shirt, breathing him in, fruity wine, crisp night air, and home. "You already have."

We lingered over dessert, the conversation light and easy. It was one of those rare, perfect moments where everything felt right. When we finally returned to the penthouse, I headed straight for the kitchen, craving a cup of tea to settle my nerves. Cameron followed, leaning against the counter as I filled the kettle.

"I can't stop thinking about it," I admitted, pulling a mug from the cabinet. "The restaurant. It's all I've ever wanted, but now that it's actually happening, it's overwhelming."

He stepped closer, his voice low and steady. "You'll handle it. You're the strongest person I know."

His words were like a balm to the fear that had been gnawing at me. I set the mug down and stepped into his arms, resting my head against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, grounding me.

"Thank you," I whispered. "For believing in me."

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