Page 45 of Jace's Mate
“They’re one and the same,” Jace replied.“Almost every member of the pack works for the company in some capacity.Running one means running the other.They’ve become so intertwined, they can’t be separated.”
She hesitated.“Is that… a good thing?”
“It’s worked,” he said simply.
That wasn’t the answer she wanted.Not really.But maybe she’d been too vague.
“Just ask, Anikka,” he said quietly.“Anything.”
Her heart picked up speed.She bit her lower lip, then blurted, “You’re a gorgeous man, Jace.”Her cheeks burned as she quickly added, “And you clearly have a lot on your plate.How do you have time for a… personal life?”
His eyes didn’t leave hers.Slowly, deliberately, he reached for her hand, his fingers threading through hers like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“It will work out,” he said, his voice low.“Now that we’re together, everything will work out.”
Anikka stared at their joined hands.He had strong, capable hands—elegant fingers laced with the same quiet power he carried in every movement.She couldn’t stop the thought that flickered through her mind—what else could those hands do?
His smirk told her he’d caught it.
“I should go,” she said abruptly, her voice tight.She looked toward the elevator.
“You can leave anytime you want,” he replied.“I won’t stop you.”
Her eyes darted to the elevator again.She could leave.Nothing was stopping her.
Except the fact that she didn’t want to.
She took a sip of her wine.“I’ll go after I finish this.”
“What about dinner?”he asked.“Are you hungry?”
“Starving,” she admitted, surprised by how hollow she felt.“What would you like me to make?”
He gently pushed her back down before she could rise.“Dinner’s taken care of.I’ll have it sent up.”
Her brows lifted.“You have someone cooking for you?”
As he pulled out his phone to text, he shook his head.“Most of the kitchen staff downstairs are men.A few women, too, but the majority are male.”
“You have male cooks?”she repeated, stunned and intrigued by the possibility.
“Hell yes.A couple graduated from the Culinary Institute of America and are damned good chefs.Hell, they’re some of the best chefs I’ve ever met.Most of the cooks on the ships are men, too.”
“Interesting,” she murmured, sipping her wine.
“Dinner will be—”
The elevator pinged softly.A second later, the scent hit her—savory, rich, impossible to ignore.Her stomach growled.
“Oh, that smells amazing,” she breathed.“Pasta.I love pasta.”
Two women stepped into the loft, each balancing a tray piled high with food.They moved efficiently, setting the trays down on the coffee table—but not without a few not-so-subtle glances.Their smiles were polite, but their eyes flicked between Jace and Anikka with barely concealed curiosity.One of them offered a knowing “Enjoy, Alpha,” while the other lingered a second too long, clearly dying to catch some hint of gossip.Then, with professional grace and suppressed smirks, they disappeared back into the elevator.
Jace handed her a plate.“Help yourself.”
Anikka leaned forward as he uncovered the dishes, each one releasing another wave of mouth-watering aroma.Her stomach ached.Her senses were sharper than ever, and she could identify nearly every spice.
Spaghetti with meat sauce.Garlic.Basil.Oregano.She took her first bite and nearly moaned.
