Chapter 14
Serenity
After running into that disgusting Mr. Lexington at Victor’s office, I avoided Victor for the remainder of the day, which wasn’t hard because he doesn’t come home until at least eight and I’m usually in his library, snuggled under a blanket, reading romance books that are suspiciously placed on his shelves.
But I promised to make him a home-cooked meal, and I’m a woman of my word.
I lift the lid off the pan and check out my work.
The shrimp scampi is drool worthy.
I check my watch, and it says it’s six-thirty. Summer goes to bed around seven-thirty, so I couldn’t make it any later. Maybe if I keep the lid on the skillet …
The front door opening and closing pulls my attention, and my heart hammers against my ribcage.
Victor is never home this early. There’s a security gate so no one can get in.
But what if someone figured out how to get through?
I’ve seen plenty of movies where people scope out a place until they find all the weak spots and then strike.
I wipe my suddenly sweaty palms down my apron, grab a butcher’s knife and rush out of the kitchen. Summer is in the living room—farther from the front door—so if I get there first and it’s an intruder who followed me here from Granite Falls, I’ll be able to lure them away from her.
But I’ve paid them off. So, what do they want with me now?
It doesn’t matter. If something doesn’t add up, I have to stay on high alert.
I creep down the hallway, my slippered feet silent as I pad across the wood floor.
As I near the front door, I hide behind a wall, inhale once, and peek around the corner with a thudding heart.
A familiar broad back faces me, and I heave out a breath.
Never did I think seeing Victor would calm my erratic pulse. “What are you doing home so early?” I ask, revealing myself.
Victor turns, and his eyebrows raise. “I thought I’d come in time for dinner since it was promised, and I’ve got to say it’s been on my mind.” He motions to me. “Care to explain why you’re holding a knife?”
“I … uh, funny story,” I say and try to flash him a friendly smile, but I’m absolutely certain it came out more deranged and he’ll flee any moment. “Well, you never come home this early, so I thought it might be an intruder.”
Victor loosens his tie and unbuttons his suit jacket, saying nothing.
Seeing him in a more natural state and not completely put together …
wow. He turns away to hang up his coat, and my eyes stray to his ass.
It strains against his slacks. I swear it belongs in a museum with how perfectly shaped it is.
When he turns back to me, he prowls over.
I gulp and take a few steps back until my back hits the wall with a soft thud.
He places his hands on the wall around my head, caging me in like he caught his prey.
My heart thumps, and my chest rises and falls rapidly as he leans down and whispers, “You know, I love how that sounded coming out of your mouth.”
I squeak and try to duck away, but he lowers his arms to stop me. And for some reason, I don’t try again.
“You like that I thought you were an intruder? Do you have those kinds of fantasies?” I ask, a little too breathlessly.
Shut up, Serenity. You don’t need to know his sexual fantasies.
He tips his head to the side, leans in, and whispers, “Do you spend a lot of time wondering what my fantasies are?”
“What? No, of course not.” I put my hands on his chest to shove him but freeze. He’s a wall of solid muscle. I move my hands down, and my fingers find the crevices of his six-pack through his button-down shirt.
“Are you done feeling me up?” His voice is husky. “Or do you have other plans that go against our verbal agreement?”
I jerk my hands off him, and my cheeks burn. Fuck. Shit. Any other swear word I can think of. How am I forgetting this isn’t real?
“Uh, I—” Well, damn. I always know what to say, but he’s the first person to stun me speechless. “I wasn’t.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t hold it against you.” He winks, and I swear, I’m not melting. “And I won’t tell anyone how much you enjoy my body.”
His words remind me of our invisible line. I place my hands on my hips as if to keep them under control, but the movement is awkward with my limited space. “You make that sound so dirty.”
“It can be if you let it,” his deep voice rumbles and wraps around me like a warm embrace. “You can touch every muscle on my body.”
Liquid heat settles deep in my stomach, flowing until it’s molten lava. I’d lick every crease on his body if …
“Mommy!” Summer hollers from the living room. “My stomach is growling.”
I shove Victor again, and this time he moves away. “How about we go eat dinner?”
“I’m looking forward to eating whatever you cooked,” he says, his light blue eyes a shade darker. “I’m sure it will be the most amazing food I’ve ever tasted.”
Why am I now thinking about him eating other things?
A few minutes later, we’re all seated at Victor’s dining room table.
The room is cold and uninviting, but maybe I can redecorate it into something that makes it feel more like home.
Just because this is temporary—something I desperately need to remember after what happened by the entryway—doesn’t mean we have to live in a house that looks staged.
All of the food is in the center of the huge, rectangular table.
I also made garlic bread, roasted vegetables—the non-canned kind—and a tossed salad to go with the shrimp scampi.
Victor piles food on his plate after serving Summer and me.
He lifts a fork to his mouth but pauses halfway to his lips. “Why aren’t you eating?”
I swirl the serving spoon around in the air, trying to ignore the fluttering sensation in my stomach. “I will. I just want to see how you like it first.”
“Are you doubting your culinary skills?” He points over at Summer, who is already chowing down. “It looks like she likes it.”
Summer grins around a bite of her vegetables. “It’s super yummy, Mommy.”
“Thank you, dear,” I say to Summer. Turning my attention back to Victor, I squirm as he stares me down. “This is your first home-cooked meal, so eat, or else I’ll whack you with this.” I hold the serving spoon up to show him I’m serious.
A grin curves his lips. He glances at Summer, who isn’t paying us any attention, before saying, “I might enjoy that a little too much. Now, please, eat before the food gets cold.”
Aren’t billionaires supposed to only care about themselves? I’m not sure how many of them actually care about others eating before their food gets cold.
He brings a bite to his mouth and chews it slowly as if he’s trying to get a taste of every flavor. His eyes close as he swallows. Then he sighs. Oh, God, he hates it. Well, I guess that’s the end of me cooking for him. I can hire a chef if he hates—
“This is the best food I’ve ever tasted,” he says before I can finish my thought. “You’ve been holding out on me.”
I raise a brow. “I cook every day. You don’t eat it.”
“Well, from now on, I’m eating what you make.”
Against my better judgment, I sit a little taller at his compliment. Since when do I care about what he thinks of me? I need to cut this out before I start searching him out for praise.
“Me too,” Summer chimes in, speaking around a mouthful of food.
I reach over and pat her hand. “Thank you. Now make sure you eat all your vegetables.”
Victor takes another bite and savors it just like the last. After he swallows, he says, “Before I forget, how do you feel about volunteering?”
I never had enough time to volunteer, but I always wanted to. “It’s a worthy pursuit.”
Victor smiles. “There’s a clinic that I donate to every year, and they were impressed with your resume.
” I open my mouth to question how the hell he would get his hands on my credentials, but he plows forward.
“They don’t have a lot of money to pay, and you are financially secure, so I thought I’d ask you if you wanted to volunteer there. ”
Real live butterflies erupt in my chest, and tears fill my eyes. Victor Barlowe. The billionaire whom I always assumed didn’t have a heart actually does? “Yes, I’d love to volunteer.”