Page 26 of Little Did You Know

"They wouldn't let me pass." Tiffany straightened her spine, clutching the trench coat tighter as a cool breeze swept past. "And I wanted to surprise you, so I jumped the fence!" She preened, as if expecting applause for her gymnastic feat.

My jaw dropped. "Naked?" The metal links of the security fence loomed in my mind, cold and unforgiving against bare skin. "That probably didn't feel good."

Hannah's snort turned into a coughing fit as she tried to contain her laughter. Nick's shoulders tensed, his glare promising retribution.

Tiffany's manicured nail jabbed the air between us. Her bottom lip jutted out, glossy with expensive lipstick. "Who is she?"

"I'm Olivia." My voice was steadier than I felt. Force of habit made me extend my hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you." Nick gently shoved me back away from the door and gave me a shut-up look.

"It's none of your business," Nick growled. "You shouldn't be here."

"Why is she here?" Tiffany whined.

"She lives here," Hannah replied, still trying to contain her laughter and failing miserably.

"What?" Tiffany spat out.

"I just moved in." I was having a hard time keeping my mouth shut for some reason.

"Olivia, be quiet." Nick shot daggers my way. "Hannah, please go with Olivia upstairs." But we stood right where we were, and his attention turned to Tiffany. "You broke the rules, Tiff," Nick snapped in irritation. "Hook-ups by appointment only."

"Screw your stupid rules!" Tiffany stomped her foot, the motion causing her coat to gap dangerously. "You're so predictable, and it's boring." Her voice rose with each word, echoing off the marble foyer. "Everything's by a schedule and on your schedule at that."

A vein pulsed in Nick's temple. He stepped forward, his voice dropping to that dangerous quiet. "You need to leave. You broke the rules; we can't see each other anymore. Please don't make me call security." The woman released a loud huff, held her chin high, and stomped off.

The heavy thud of the front door closing behind Tiffany echoed through the foyer. Tension hung in the air like static before a storm, Nick's anger still palpable in the set of his shoulders. Hannah's poorly suppressed giggles broke through the silence, diffusing some of the awkwardness.

"Girlfriend troubles," I teased, though I could see he was in no mood.

"Funny." His tone dripped with sarcasm. "She's not a girlfriend, a friend, and now a former friend."

Hannah wiped tears from her eyes, still trembling with suppressed laughter. "Well, this has all been very amusing." She glanced at her watch and straightened, composing herself. "But if we're going to make it to the party on time, I need to get ready."

Nick gestured toward the stairs, his professional mask firmly back in place. As their footsteps faded toward the guest room, I retreated to the kitchen.

The rich scent of chocolate drew me—Arlena must have been baking earlier. The kitchen was my sanctuary in this strange house, and right now, I needed the comfort of something familiar.

The cake sat on the marble counter felt like an offering, dark and decadent. I cut myself a generous slice, the silver knife sliding through layers of velvet-smooth frosting.

Sliding onto the stool, I dragged my plate in front of me before sinking my fork into the moist cake and taking a bite. "Mmmmm," I moaned.

"Good?" His tone was laced with amusement.

"Uh hmmm," I hummed, my mouth still full of the delicious cake. He cut a piece for himself and took the seat next to me.

I took several more bites before feeling Nick's eyes boring into me. "What?" I mumbled, turning to face him.

"Must be good." Nick leaned against the counter, positioning himself just inside the boundary of my personal space—not quite touching, but close enough that the air between us seemed to crackle with potential. The faint scent of his cologne reached me in stages: first cedar, then something citrusy.

His presence transformed the spacious kitchen. Walls seemed to inch inward, ceiling lowering, until all that existed was this bubble containing just the two of us. My awareness narrowed to the insignificant details: the steady rise and fall of his chest, the precise distance between his hand and mine on the counter—three inches, maybe four—and how simple it would be to bridge that gap.

I didn't move. Neither did he. And somehow, that stillness felt more intimate than any touch.

I nodded, my fork suspended halfway to my mouth, acutely aware of his gaze following the movement. The intensity in his dark eyes made me forget about the cake entirely.

"I've never heard such..." he paused, his voice dropping to a register that vibrated through me. "...animalistic sounds coming from someone eating cake before."

His lips curved into that half-smile—the one that always made my stomach flip. My gaze lingered on his mouth a heartbeat too long before I forced myself to look away, but not before catching the knowing glint in his eyes.

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