Page 14 of The Love Syllabus

His smile deepens, that devil-may-care glint flashing in his dark eyes. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to introduce myself properly. I’m your new neighbor. Bought the plot next door.” He pauses, savoring the room’s collective inhale. “My full name is Chef Victor Grimes.”

A collective gasp sweeps through the room. I manage to keep my composure, but I’m a whirlwind of emotions inside. “TheChef Vic? The owner of the Grimes Restaurant Empire? You’re a culinary genius!” Someone gushes from the crowd.

I catch Cory’s expression, his face a mask of utter shock, rendering him speechless and demoralized.

Another voice chimes in, breaking his stupor. “And you’re datingourKerry? Our chaotic little Kerry?”

“Our sweet Kerry?” Another voice chirps as if I’m some hometown mascot.

Geez, is it that hard to believe? Do they actually see me as some simple, timid townie? Did Cory really grind me down so small in everyone’s minds? Did I reallyallowhim to do that to me?

Victor’s gaze softens as it meets mine, his voice dropping to something that almost feels sincere. “Well, I’ve been asking myself the same question since the day we met. What do you say, Kerry? Are we dating?”

The crowd leans in, practically holding their breath. “Kerry don’t make us call your parents! You better answer that fine man.” Someone teases, laughter rippling through the room.

In any other situation, I’d screamhell no! But seeing Cory’s deflated ego gives me a wicked sense of satisfaction.

“Yes,” I say boldly, relishing the energy shift. “We’re dating. We’ve been seeing each other quietly for a few months because privacy’s hard to come by in this town.”

Effortlessly playing along, Victor slips his arm from around my waist. He lifts my hand, pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles. The warmth of his lips sends a jolt straight to my core.

Damn him.

“I’m looking forward to spending the rest of the evening in public, exploring this charming town with you.” He announces for all to hear.

Before we leave, he throws a cocky nod at Cory. “Nice meeting you, Superintendent.”

Hand in hand, Vic and I step out of Izzy’s Flower Shop, but as soon as we’re out of sight, I yank my hand away and shove his chest. He’s unyielding, a solid mass that doesn’t budge, which somehow manages to both irritate me and slightly turn me on.

“Are you out of your mind? Claiming we’re dating? I only wanted to knock my ex off his high horse! Not be in a whole relationship! The town isn’t gonna let this go. They know and remembereverything. There’s gonna be pictures of us on our neighborhood social media page!”

His playful grin wanes. “I was just following your lead, Kerry. Didn’t think it was a big deal.” He shrugs.

“Well, itisa big deal!” I snap, throwing my hands in the air. “And what’s this about you not being rich? You lied to me.”

His smirk returns, devilish and teasing. “Does that make you want me now? Besides…” He steps closer, his heat rolling off him like a challenge. Leaning in even more with his breath warm against my temple, he clarifies, “I’m not rich…I’m wealthy.”

A wave of heat surges through me. Holy shit, I’m unraveling. Stand up straight. This rich jerk willnotmake me melt in his palms, but suddenly, my resolve falters, causing me to panic.

“Oh no, you’re wealthyandridiculously handsome! I bet Cory’s pissed. He’s gonna terrorize you. You have no idea the lengths he’ll go to make your life a living hell.”

Victor’s expression doesn’t change. He straightens his 6’3” frame, a picture of poise and potent masculinity, then closes the final stretch of distance between uswith measured and deliberate steps. His gaze smolders, heavy with intent and an undeniable authority that wraps around me like a cloak.

Leaning close, his breath warm against my ear, he whispers with a sharp, gravelly authority, “Let’s be clear. I don’t give a fuck about your ex.”

I don’t just hear his words; Ifeelthem reverberating through me, setting off alarms in places I had nearly forgotten could sound off. My toys NEVER stirred up this much of a wildfire of desire, this much of a potent cocktail of frustrating arousal.

So, what do I do? Well, the most rational thing.

I RUN.

Ignoring the stabbing pain from my four-inch heels, I dash past him in a blur, my heart pounding louder than my footsteps.

“Wait!” His voice slices through the cool evening air—low, amused, and with just enough bite to make me irrationally angrier. His strides are long and effortless, and in seconds, he’s beside me. “Let me walk you to your car.”

“I didn’t drive. I took an Uber,” I snap, quickening my pace. The sharp click of my heels echoes off the empty street, matching the frantic rhythm in my chest.

“Then let me take you home.” His tone softens, smooth yet insistent, his presence closing in with every determined step.

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