Chapter 83 – The Penthouse Trap Monique should have known better. Every fiber of her being told her not to go. But when Desmond leaned against her desk that Friday afternoon, his tie loosened, his eyes steady, and said, “My mother wants dinner. At the penthouse. With us,” she couldn’t find a graceful way to refuse. Her pride screamed at her to draw a line, to tell him no, but the thought of disappointing his mother—Elaine, who had hugged her so warmly and spoken with such belief—softened her resolve. So she said yes. And now she was here, standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse, staring out at Chicago’s glittering skyline, trying to calm the uneasy flutter in her chest. Desmond moved around the kitchen with easy grace, sleeves rolled up, pouring wine like this was a casual evening between two people who weren’t falling apart at the seams. “You don’t cook, do you?” she teased, more to break the silence than anything else. He smirked. “I can cook when I n
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