23
EVERLY
EVERY TIME I SEE CASH’S short hair, it almost brings me to tears. Not because I don’t like it—he’s sexy no matter the length of his hair—but because of what it represents.
He’s used it as a shield for all these years, and I’m honored that he would ask me to be part of his healing process. It serves as a reminder of his willingness and courage to step outside of his comfort zone.
His example has made me consider my situation with my dad. I’ve avoided a confrontation with him out of fear that I’ll lose my job, financial security, and any chance of having a working relationship. However, I’m learning that my happiness should come first, above all else. When the next opportunity presents itself, I won’t pass up the chance to stand my ground.
I’m yanked from my thoughts by the sound of the fire alarm.
“Oh no,” I shout, leaping from my chair. I rush to the oven and yank out the burned casserole, dropping it into the sink—dish and all. Plumes of smoke surround me as the alarm continues to blare.
Cash chooses this exact moment to come home, rushing into the kitchen with a startled look on his face. His eyes dart to me before jumping onto the kitchen island and turning off the smoke detector.
I sigh in relief when the apartment finally falls into silence. It’s a good thing his gym is on the floor below, or we’d have angry neighbors demanding to know what all the commotion was about.
“Ev, are you okay?” He climbs down and stalks toward me, gently cradling my face with his hands.
“Yeah, I’m so sorry,” I mutter, my face flushed with embarrassment. “I was baking a shepherd’s pie for dinner but burned it.”
He’s been so incredibly thoughtful since I moved in, and I wanted to do something special for him in return. I left work early to pick up a bake-at-home pie from a nearby restaurant, figuring it would be easy to prepare. The only problem is that I forgot to set a timer when I put it in the oven and got distracted.
“At least now we know the smoke detector works.” Cash offers me a reassuring smile. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” I melt into his touch, inhaling the comforting scent of citrus, musk, and sandalwood.
Our domesticated marital bliss feels more real by the day, especially now that we’re having sex every chance we get. Something about our new intimacy has brought us closer despite the lingering doubts in the back of my mind.
I meant it when I told him that I trust him, but I can’t help waiting for the other shoe to drop. In the past, whenever things started to look up, that’s when they fell apart.
I narrow my eyes at Cash when he laughs. “What’s so funny?” I frown.
“I’m not laughing at you, Ev. It’s just amusing how neither of us can cook worth shit.”
I tilt my head, my brows furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean? You’ve made dinner almost every night, and every dish tastes like it came out of Theo’s kitchen.”
He bites his lip, stifling another burst of laughter.
“Cash—”
He holds his finger out to stop me. “Hold that thought. I have something to show you.”
He leaves me in the kitchen, returning a few moments later with a canvas tote bag. From it, he takes out a tray of grilled lemon herb chicken, a container of roasted vegetables, a garden salad with a separate container of vinaigrette dressing, and two fruit tarts.
“What’s all this?” I ask.
“Our dinner,” he admits, shifting from foot to foot. “Do you know Fallon? Theo mentored her, and she worked for him for years.”
I nod. “Yeah, I used to see her all the time when I’d visit Theo’s restaurant in the West End. She left last year to launch her private chef service…” My voice falters as the pieces fall into place. “You hired her to prepare our dinners, didn’t you?”
“Guilty,” he says with a sly grin.
I frown. “Why would you do that?”
It doesn’t matter to me if Cash can cook. I survived on fish and chips, Thai food, and sandwiches from the pub down the street from my office for years, and I would be fine doing that again. Or if he had told me upfront that he wanted a private chef to cook our meals, I would have been okay with that. I’m struggling with the fact that he wasn’t honest from the start.
His confession stirs memories of Landon lying about his whereabouts and who he spent time with when we were dating. When the truth came out, my pride was bruised, and I felt foolish for missing the warning signs.
Cash fidgets with his bracelet as he looks at me apologetically. “I figured you’d appreciate it more if you believed I was cooking dinner rather than someone else doing it.” He’s not wrong. It’s one of the primary reasons I began feeling at ease with him. “I saw how hard you work and wanted to make the transition easier for you, especially since moving in with me wasn’t your first choice. You deserve to live somewhere that feels like home, and I thought coming back to the apartment to a home-cooked meal every night would help.” He stops in front of me, and I’m met with his earnest gaze.
His admission tugs at my heartstrings. It would have been better if he’d told me upfront, but I can understand why he didn’t. He may be too laid-back at times, but he’s also kind-hearted and patient.
I have to remind myself that Cash is nothing like Landon and would never deliberately cause me harm. He goes to great lengths for the people he cares about, and I’m fortunate to be counted among them.
“I appreciate the gesture, but it hurts that you kept this from me. It’s important that we don’t keep secrets—big or small.” I place my hand in his. “Can we agree on being open with each other moving forward? It’s a hard limit for me.”
Cash squeezes my hand as he looks into my eyes. “There’s one more thing I have to tell you,” he confesses.
“Which is?”
“Marcus didn’t put off decorating the apartment. I waited to call him until yesterday.” He holds his hand out to stop me when I go to speak. “I wasn’t ready to have you sleep in a separate room. What if you got scared of the dark or needed me to kill a spider?”
“You can tell the truth and admit that you like having me in your bed.” I rise on my toes to press a kiss to his lips. “Don’t worry, Cash, I like being there too.”
“No more secrets,” he promises.
“You said you called Marcus yesterday. When is he stopping by?”
“Later tonight, actually,” Cash tells me. “It’s about time we made this place a real home.”
My heart races every time he calls it our home. This arrangement was supposed to be temporary, but right now, it feels like anything but.
When the elevator doors open, a man enters the penthouse’s entryway. He’s clad in designer jeans, a blazer layered over a graphic tee, and a stylish blue scarf. He strides in with a leather portfolio tucked under one arm, scanning the space with a discerning eye.
“Marcus, it’s great to see you. Thanks for coming,” Cash says, giving him a pat on the back.
“Sure thing. I’ve been itching to decorate this space since you bought it.” Marcus looks around. “I’ll admit, I didn’t think you’d ever take me up on my offer, given how set you were on keeping it looking like a permanent bachelor pad.”
“He had no choice,” I interject, coming to stand next to Cash. “This apartment is too stunning to stay empty.”
“And who might this lovely creature be?” Marcus asks, his face lighting up as he glances between Cash and me.
“This is Everly, my wife,” Cash states, beaming with pride.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Marcus says, offering me his hand. I mirror his gesture and he presses a chaste kiss to my hand. “It’s about time you finally settled down,” he tells Cash.
“I got really lucky.” Cash puts his arm around my shoulders, silently staking his claim.
“How do you two know each other?” I ask.
“We worked in the mailroom of the Stafford Holdings New York office. I was saving up to move to London, unaware that I was working with the future Chief Operations Officer of the billion-dollar conglomerate,” Marcus says.
With a sheepish look, Cash lifts his arm from my shoulders and rubs the back of his neck. “I didn’t want people to know who my family was.”
“This guy was everyone’s favorite co-worker.” Marcus points to Cash. “He brought lunch for our department every Friday and gave everyone gift cards to their favorite restaurant for their birthday and Christmas.”
I’m not surprised. Cash is the most compassionate and generous person I know. Even if he didn’t have a dollar to his name, he would give the shirt off his back to help someone. It’s one of the reasons I’m drawn to him.
“Now, where should we start with this blank canvas?” Marcus waves around the apartment.
“Everly, what do you think?” Cash nudges me for my opinion.
Admittedly, I’ve been fantasizing about how I’d decorate the place since the first time I stepped inside, and I appreciate him giving me a say.
“Why don’t we start by giving the primary bedroom a refresh,” I suggest to Marcus. “A cozy loveseat and paintings will brighten up the room. Plus, with my growing shoe collection, I could use your expertise on how to optimize the space we have.” I glance over to give Cash a knowing smile.
The shopping trip to the boutique last week was incredible, and I couldn’t believe it when all the shoes he bought me showed up at the apartment. It’s surreal having a sexy billionaire insistent on buying me a store full of heels simply because they’re my favorite. Now it’s just a matter of finding a place to store them all.
Marcus nods as he jots down notes in his binder. “What else?”
“For the living room, I would like to incorporate a few high-quality pieces, a painting or two, and some plants—keeping it elegant yet understated.” I’ve grown to appreciate the apartment’s simplicity and want to keep the minimalist style, but want to add a few elements to make it more inviting. “As for the kitchen and dining area, I’d like to include a dining room table for when we have guests over.”
“Anything else?” Marcus asks as he glances up from his binder.
“What about the guest bedroom?” Cash chimes in, his expression wary.
“Oh, yeah, that’s right.” I hold my finger in the air. “I’d like the guest room closest to the kitchen to be furnished and decorated for when we have family or friends come to stay. What do you think about including some nods to London?”
“That’s a great idea,” Marcus agrees. “I’m going to look at the bedrooms to get some measurements. Is that okay?” he asks, taking a small measuring tape from his binder.
“Yeah, be our guest.” I wave down the hall.
“Perfect, I’ll start with the primary,” he calls out as he walks away.
Once he’s out of view, I turn to see Cash staring at me with an unreadable expression, which isn’t like him. Normally, he’s an open book.
I furrow my brow. “What’s wrong? Did you not like one of my suggestions?”
He shakes his head. “You didn’t ask Marcus to furnish a separate room for you. Unless you plan to stay in the London-inspired room when we don’t have guests.”
“I don’t.”
I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear as I wait for him to respond, fully aware of the weight those two simple words carry. Telling him I like sleeping in his bed is one thing, but admitting I want to keep sharing a room is another.
Cash’s gaze turns heated as he tugs me closer to his chest. “You mean it, Ev?”
I nod. “As long as I’m here, I’m staying in our bedroom.”
“Say it again,” he demands.
“I’m staying in our bedroom,” I repeat.
He tips my head back, kissing me like he’s been starved for my admission, making me want to give him everything he asks for and so much more.
My moan reverberates through our kiss as his tongue dances with mine, leaving me breathless. Our intoxicating chemistry is dizzying, and while my focus is on his hand sliding down my thigh, I have enough sense to remember that we’re not alone in the house.
“We have a guest,” I murmur against his lips with a smile.
“That’s alright, I can wait until later tonight to fuck you.” He flashes me a sexy grin. “After all, we do share the same bed.”