The Billionaire's Sunshine
And within that meal, the tiramisu, a culmination of textures and flavors, was the perfect finale, a promise of sweetness and lingering memory.
I wiped my hands on the clean towel hanging by the stove, my eyes sweeping across the counters one last time. Everything was in its place—perfectly plated, timed, and warm. The kitchen smelled like rosemary, butter, citrus, and coffee—an intoxicating combination that somehow calmed the tension in my shoulders. Each dish was a miniature masterpiece, a testament to hours of meticulous work and a lifetime of practiced skill.
I stepped back and let out a quiet breath. “Done,” I murmured to myself. The single word felt like a release, the culmination of h
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