All Chapters of His Private Chef: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

He opened the closet like I wasn’t standing there.I leaned against the doorway, arms folded, watching him flip through shirts with cold precision. Like we hadn’t just kissed in a way that could’ve torn the sky in half.He pulled out a black tee, dragged it over his head.And I said it."Why are you bothering with that shirt when you're going to take it off in five minutes?"He paused. Turned. Eyes sweeping over me with quiet menace.Then came the smirk."Is that so?"I didn’t even blink. Just smiled, sharp and slow. "You tell me."He closed the distance between us with maddening grace.His voice dropped, low and charged. "What makes you think you’re going to win this game you're playing?”I ran a finger down his chest. "Oh, Liam. You’re the one playing. I already won. I’m just entertaining your ego because I’m generous like that."He exhaled a soft laugh, but something burned behind his eyes. "You really think you’re in control?""Do you know who I dressed for tonight?" I whispered.

I was smiling while rinsing a mug I’d already washed twice.Not because it was dirty. Because I couldn’t stop replaying the way he kissed me.My mom walked in, looked at me once, and smirked. “So... you two made up.”I tried not to grin harder. “What makes you say that?”“You’re humming,” she said, pulling open the fridge. “You only hum when you’re happy or up to something.”“Can’t it be both?”She laughed. “Just don’t float away. I need a movie partner tonight.”“Deal. But I pick the show.”“Fine. But no sad ones. You’ve cried enough for one lifetime.”Then she grabbed the popcorn, I grabbed the remote, and we curled up on the couch like we used to when I was younger and believed happy endings came easily.The world melted away. The weight I’d been dragging around loosened its grip.Somewhere between our favorite episodes and the third bowl of popcorn, I lost track of time.Until my phone lit up.Liam: Come outside. It’s time for your punishment.My heart did a somersault.I peeked o

It had been twenty-four hours since Mason’s post broke the internet, and Liam hadn’t said a single word about it.No text. No reaction. Nothing.Either he hadn’t seen the buzz, or he was pretending it didn’t exist. And with Liam Black, both were equally possible.But I knew I had to talk to him. He was my boyfriend now. His opinion mattered, even when he acted like it didn’t.We were out by the pool behind his mansion, tangled in one of those easy, post-swim silences. I was curled up in his lap, my head resting on his bare chest, and the warm breeze swept over us like a whispered secret.He’d just declared our dip “the official welcome-back to inside-the-pool activities” whatever that meant. It was silly, but I couldn’t help laughing and playing along.Still, my mind hadn’t exactly been on the water.I was thinking about Mason. Or more accurately, the storm building around his name.Liam's fingers brushed up and down my spine like he already knew I was overthinking.“What’s on your mi

Liam came back from his call looking like a man ready to pick up where we left off.I smiled at him.Soft. Sweet. Convincing.Because pretending everything was fine was easier than asking questions I wasn’t ready to hear answers to.“Everything okay?” he asked, tossing his phone onto the nearby chair.“Yeah.” I leaned in, kissing him lightly. “Just tired.”He studied me. His fingers brushed my cheek. “Are you sure?”I nodded again. “Positive.”But inside, my thoughts were anything but quiet.Kelvin’s message looped over and over in my head.He’s giving up his inheritance for that.What did that mean? And why was it something Liam never told me?If I wanted to know the truth, I had to start with someone who wouldn’t lie to protect him.Sophia.---The next day moved in a blur. I filmed my usual cooking segment, smiled for the camera, greeted my viewers, and said all the right things. But my hands shook when I cracked eggs, and I burned the top layer of my soufflé twice.When it was ove

I didn’t know what I expected when I opened the door that night.But it definitely wasn’t Henry Black.He stood with the calm stillness of someone who didn’t waste words, shoulders squared, and the passenger door of a waiting SUV already open behind him.“I know it’s late,” he said, voice quiet but firm. “But I was hoping you’d give me a few minutes.”I hesitated. Then nodded.His driver waited beside a matte Range Rover Autobiography. I followed Henry into the backseat, nerves slowly coiling inside me.We sat in silence for a full minute. The kind of silence that holds too much weight to be casual. Then finally, he spoke.“Back in St. Barts, when I first saw you with Liam… I saw a version of my son I hadn’t seen in years. Grounded. Like someone who’d finally stopped searching.”I stayed quiet, waiting to understand where he was going with this.“You’re probably wondering why I’m telling you this,” he continued. “It’s because I had a meeting with Liam yesterday. It was supposed to be