Page 69 of Never Fake Date the Financier
He slams the oven shut after dumping the charred remains of dinner on the counter.
“Open the window over there. I’ve got the terrace… and the fan.”
I laugh, watching as he wheels out a gigantic fan, turning it on before he heads to the sliding glass doors that lead to the terrace.
“You’ve got quite the system in place. I take it this isn’t your first time?”
“No,” he yells from the other side of the dining room.
I turn around, watching as he moves frantically through the kitchen. His hair’s beautifully disheveled with white streaks of flour in it. His shirt has smears of red sauce, and I’m having flashbacks of our first date here after the wedding.
Contrary to what Adrian told me, the man cannotcook. I’ve never had spaghetti that was both over and undercooked. And the meatballs? I’d rather not talk about those.
“Okay, Gordan Ramsay.” I drop my bag. “Mind telling me what’s going on here?
Adrian turns, beaming as he strides toward me carrying a large platter with unburned pizza in his hands. Immediately, my heart races and my entire body lights up, partially because I’m starving, but mostly because of Adrian. You’d think that after a year, his smile wouldn’t affect me so much. I’d get used to seeing it and him, and the feelings I’ve had surging through my body from the start of our relationship would decrease, but that hasn’t happened at all. The moment I enter our home, my body amps up, anticipating him.Needinghim.
“Happy anniversary.”
“But our anniversary isn’t until—” I pause, counting back the days in my head. “Crap. It is today. Oh my god, I can’t believe I forgot.”
I want to burrow into a hole. How in the world did I forget? I swear I had it marked down in my calendar. But before I have the chance to wallow, Adrian sets the platter down and swallows me up in his warm, comforting embrace and makes it all feel much, much better.
“It’s okay. You’ve been a little busy starring in your first movie. Besides, your being distracted provided me the perfect opportunity to surprise you.”
“With burnt pizza?”
“Not this one.” He waggles his eyebrows, nodding to the pizza in front of us. “But the surprise is that it’s the same pizza we had on our first unofficial date. The night of the rehearsal dinner. I had private lessons for over a week with the chef to recreate it.”
My stomach flips. I can’t believe he’d do that. But then again, is it really out of character? There are no half-measures with this man. Even so, I can’t help but laugh at picturing his suits dusted in flour and face smeared in pizza sauce. “Adrian Thorne taking cooking lessons? What would your board of directors say?”
“Probably that it’s a more productive use of my time than staring at pictures of you on my phone during meetings.”
“You do not.”
“Ask Asher. He’s threatened to confiscate my phone on multiple occasions.”
I wrap my arms around his waist, breathing in the scent of him. “So, you made the pizza from scratch. Next thing you’re going to tell me is that you learned how to make gelato from scratch, too.”
He’s silent for a moment too long.
“Wait.” I pull back to look at his face. “You didn’t…”
“No,” he admits, “but I did have some shipped here for dessert.”
“Oh my god.” I rise on my toes, kissing him, savoring his taste as his hands slide down to my waist, pulling me closer as our kiss deepens. I melt into him, dazed that this is my life now. This man. How lucky am I? Seriously. “You’re amazing. So incredibly thoughtful.” And then my mood sours, my chest tightening as the pit in my stomach grows. “But I didn’t get you anything. I can’t believe I forgot. I?—”
“You’re all I need, Ella. You’re all I want. I don’t care. I’m so proud of you for what you’ve done. What you’re doing. You just wrapped up your first film. Let’s celebrate that. Let’s celebrate us. And besides…” Adrian slides his hands lower, cupping my ass, gripping me tightly as he stares down at me with hooded eyes, “I’m more interested in eating you tonight.”
A frisson of excitement races through me as tingles radiate all over my body. The man is insatiable. Usually, he’s at the door, waiting for me if he’s the first one home. I love it. I love him. And as Adrian threads his fingers through my hair, pulling me into another deep kiss, something batters insistently at my ankles, meowing indignantly at us.
“Someone’s jealous,” Adrian murmurs against my lips.
I glance down to find Snickerdoodle, our orange tabby, glaring up at me with what can only be described as feline disapproval. She bats at my leg again, clearly offended that I’m monopolizing her human.
“Sorry, Snicks,” I say, bending down to scratch behind her ears. “He was mine first.”
This was another surprise from Adrian. Apparently, she’d been hanging around the loading dock in the building, and Adrian heard about it in passing, adopting her on the spot. And let’s just say, she’s about as attached to him as I am.
