Page 90 of Release Me
Rian rounds the corner into the kitchen, loosening his tie. His suit jacket is slung over his shoulder. He looks tired, but when his eyes land on me—apron, spatula, the whole domestic goddess thing—they go wide.
‘Sweetheart,’ he drawls, dropping the jacket onto a stool. ‘Are you… cooking?’
‘Don’t sound so shocked,’ I laugh, though nerves bubble up in my throat. ‘I wanted to do something nice for you. A little taste of New York.’
‘I like what I’ve tasted of New York so far.’ His dark eyes gleam.
‘Oh no, buddy. I’ve slaved over this stove for you. You’re going to eat it before you get dessert.’ I press a kiss to his lips, then turn back to the cooker. ‘Sit. It’s almost ready.’
Instead, he slides his strong arms around my waist, nuzzling my neck as the burgers hiss on the pan. ‘You haveno idea how good it feels to come home to you,’ he murmurs.
And for the first time in years, I don’t feel like a trophy wife or a bargaining chip.
I feel like a woman in love, making dinner for the man who makes me laugh until my cheeks ache, who makes me feel safe, wanted, alive.
Maybe this is what life could be.
It’s certainly what it should be.
I plate everything with more care than I’ve ever plated anything in my life, stacking the burgers high, sprinkling the fries with sea salt. It’s not going to win any cookery competitions, but it looks hearty, honest.
I set the plates down on the island and slide onto the stool beside him, tucking my legs under me. He’s already cracked open the beer I left waiting for him, watching me with a ridiculous mix of pride and hunger that makes my stomach flip.
I bump my shoulder against his, adopting my best housewife voice. ‘So, how was your day, dear?’
He smirks, eyes gleaming as he takes a long pull from his bottle before setting it down with a soft thud. ‘Better now.’ He leans in like he’s about to kiss me, then pauses, gaze darting to the plate. ‘Jesus, Bekka, this looks incredible.’
I laugh, shaking my head. ‘It’s only a burger. Don’t get used to it. This is a one-night-only special.’
‘Then I’m going to savour every bite,’ he says, low and serious now, the kind of tone that makes my chest tighten. He picks up a fry, dips it in ketchup, and holds it to my lips like feeding me is the most natural thing in the world.
I let him, smiling around the salty heat. ‘So… how are things at the office?’
I don’t want to ask outright if he’s any closer to finding a solution yet, but the urge to know is eating at me. With everyday that passes, I’m increasingly certain I can’t go back to Anthony. Not now I know what real happiness feels like. Real love.
‘Meetings, the usual stuff. Nothing worth remembering,’ he says, brushing his thumb over the corner of my mouth where a dot of ketchup lingers. ‘This—’ he gestures to the kitchen, the plates, me—‘this is what I’ll remember about today.’
‘Flattery will get you everywhere with me,’ I tease.
‘Good, because I’m hoping it’ll get you on your back, with your legs open, lingerie off the second I’ve devoured my dinner.’ I squeeze my thighs together as Rian licks salt off his thumb. He eyes me like I’m the only woman in the world. For a few blissful minutes, it feels like I am.
Then his phone buzzes against the counter.
He glances at the screen, and the smile slips.
Anthony.
Fuck.
Does he know I’m here? Or is it a social call? They are supposed to be friends.
Our eyes meet. My stomach drops.
Rian exhales slowly, jaw tightening. ‘Well,’ he mutters, turning the phone face down so the name disappears, ‘looks like the bastard’s finally figured out who to call.’
The burgers sit half-eaten between us.
‘Are you going to answer?’ I whisper.
