CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 4.

I spent the afternoon in the kitchen, moving on from cabinet to cabinet. Chopping, stirring,

tasting, and plating, but my mind wasn’t on the food. It was on him.

Finally, the meal was ready. I carried the plates into the dining room, my heart hammering so

loud I was sure he could hear it. His sharp green eyes lifted as I approached, and I almost froze

on the spot.

“Dinner’s ready,” I said softlyHe looked at me and nodded, a polite, small smile tugging at his lips. “Join me,” he said

casually.

I hesitated, my throat dry, but nodded and carefully pulled out a chair across from him. Sitting

here, in his presence, was more nerve-wracking than I expected. My hands were clammy as I

picked up my fork, trying not to look like a complete fool.

We began to eat. My gaze kept drifting to him, tracing the lines of his face, the calm confidence

he radiated, and every movement made my pulse skip.

Then, he reached for the napkin. I reached for it too at the same time, our hands brushing

lightly. Just for a few seconds, enough to make my breath catch, enough to send a memory

screaming back.

I couldn’t stop it that night, the feel of his hands on me, warm and insistent, the way he had

touched me with a kind of reckless passion I’d never forgotten. Just a moment, five seconds, but

it made my knees weak. My heart hammered. My fingers tingled where his hands had brushed

mine.

I pulled my hand back subtly, hoping he hadn’t noticed. But when I glanced at him, he seemed

completely calm, unfazed, almost casual, and my stomach twisted at the contrast.

He cleared his throat, and I snapped back to reality. “Tell me about yourself,” he said.

I froze. Tell you about myself? Where do I even start? My throat felt tight, my mind blank.

Fucking hell!

Finally, I swallowed and forced the words out. “I’m… twenty-two. I dropped out of college a few

years back, and… I own a bakery.”

He looked at me, thoughtful. “Why did you drop out?I hesitated.

BECAUSE YOU PUT A BABY IN ME!

But I couldn't say that to him, so instead I told him, “My parents… were going through a bit of a

financial hurdle,” I lied, keeping my voice steady. “I had to get a job to help out. I saved up

money, and… I opened my own bakery in a small part of town.”

He nodded slowly, as if he understood. Then he asked about my parents and my love life.

I froze again.

Am I doing a fucking interview or survey? What's with these damn questions?

“I’m not trying to intrude,” he added quickly, as if he read my mind. “I just like to know my

workers. It helps me understand the people I work with.”

Understandable.

I swallowed hard, nodding. “My dad is… dead. My mom remarried… you know how that goes.

And I’m… single.”

He studied me for a moment, not pressing further. Then his gaze softened slightly. “Okay.

When’s your birthday?”

I paused, unsure why he wanted to know, but answered, “April 2nd.”

“Next week?“Yeah.”

Okay.” He smiled slightly.

We finished dinner in a quieter space after that. I could feel my nerves easing slightly, though

the tension lingered under my skin.

Finally, I cleared my throat. “I… I wasn’t aware I’d be staying here, so I didn’t bring any clothes

with me.”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Don’t worry. You’ll have clothes by tomorrow morning.”

I nodded, my chest still fluttering, feeling the intensity of the day finally catch up with me.

I excused myself and walked to the room that would now be mine. The door closed behind me,

shutting out the rest of the world. I sank onto the edge of the bed, my hands still trembling, my

pulse refusing to slow.

I'm either fucked or I'm fucked.

What if he remembers me and fires me?

I grabbed my phone instantly and called Jasmine, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I have to run,” I said, a mix of exhilaration, fear, and anticipation bubbling through me.