Chapter 11
IVY
The office smelled of stale coffee and gunpowder.
Brody and Cameron had been at it all night—interrogating security feeds, barking orders into phones, their wolves simmering just beneath their skin. I curled my hands around my mug, letting the heat sear my palms as I chased the last dregs of adrenaline from my veins. My body was sore, my mind racing, but the bond between Cameron and me hummed with a steady warmth that kept me grounded.
Cameron paced the length of the room, his jaw clenched and his eyes dark with barely contained rage. Every third pass, he'd glance at me, his gaze softening for a fraction of a second before hardening again. I knew that look. He was replaying the fight in his head, obsessing over every moment where I'd been in danger. I wanted to tell him to stop, to reassure him that I was fine, but I also knew he needed to process this in his own way.
The door slammed open. Brody strode in, a manila file crumpled in his fist. "We found the leak." He tossed it onto the table. Photos of grainy stills of a security guard pocketing cash, a timestamp from before FoodieCon. "Michael. Boris paid him upfront, then threatened his daughter."
Cameron's growl rumbled through the room as he snatched up the file. "Where is he?"
"In custody," Brody said, taking a step to block Cameron's advance. "I will handle it. But we need to focus on the bigger picture. Boris's men are still out there, and they're not going to let this go."
I set my coffee down, my stomach churning at the thought of more danger. Cameron's gaze locked onto me, his pupils turning into a wolf's. "What's the plan?"
He turned to me, his expression softening slightly. "Brody and I will take down anyone else who's a threat. You stay here at the office and the penthouse where it is safe."
I set my mug down with a clink. "Try again, Fitzgerald."
He hesitated, his jaw tightening. For a heartbeat, I thought he'd argue. Then his shoulders dropped. "Christ, Ivy." He raked a hand through his hair. "You're going to be the death of me."
"Partners," I reminded him, stepping closer. "Or did you mean that only when it's convenient?"
A muscle jumped in his cheek. "Fine." He caught my wrist, his thumb brushing my pulse point. "But you stick to me like a shadow. No more heroics."
I arched a brow. "Says the man who shifted mid-air to body-slam a werewolf."
Brody snorted. "She's got you there, boss."
Over the next month, Brody worked tirelessly to dismantle Boris's network, while Cameron and I focused all of our energy on rebuilding Cam's Comfy Cuisine's reputation. Despite our strong showing at FoodieCon, the stock price continued to fall to an all-time low. The numbers glowed on my laptop screen, CCC's stock price barely limping out of the grave. I slumped back in my office chair, rubbing my temples.
We launched a heavy marketing campaign, partnering with influencers and food bloggers to showcase the kits. I also found myself making my debut in front of the camera as the company's new spokesperson. After cursing Cameron out, I pasted on a cheery smile and demonstrated the new meal kit with notorious Hollywood A-list actor Levi Storm on a morning talk show. The response was overwhelming. It didn't take too long to win back investor confidence and the stock price and sales began to climb steadily. It felt good to see the company on the rise again and to know that our hard work was paying off.
The penthouse elevator chimed. Cameron stepped out, his tie loose and two takeout bags dangling from his fingers. "You're working late."
"Someone has to keep this empire afloat," I teased, shutting the laptop.
He set the bags on the counter. Lobster risotto with foraged wild mushrooms and squid ink pasta with a saffron sauce from Amalfi, our favorite restaurant. My stomach growled.
"Seafood and carbs?" I sniffed the air. "What's the occasion?"
He uncorked a bottle of Barolo, the rich plum scent filling the kitchen.
"Do I need one to spoil my mate? To us," he said, raising his glass. "And to everything we've overcome."
Mate. The word still sent a shiver down my spine. I clinked my glass against his, a smile tugging at my lips. "To us."
"This is nice," I said, taking a sip of my wine. "A welcome break from all the business."
Cameron reached across the table, his hand covering mine. "You've been incredible through all this. I don't know what I'd do without you."
I smiled, squeezing his hand. "We're a team. We'll get through anything as long as we're together."
As we enjoyed our meal, the conversation turned to the future, both professionally and personally. "There's something I've been wanting to talk to you about."
I froze, a forkful of risotto halfway to my mouth. "That sounds ominous." My heart skipped a beat at the seriousness in his tone. "What is it?"
He took a deep breath, his fingers tightening around mine. "Ivy, I know your dream isn't working for a test kitchen. It's owning your own restaurant. And I want to make that happen for you."
The fork clattered onto my plate. I stared at him, my mind racing. "Cameron, I don't know what to say."
He leaned forward, elbows on the table. "I've seen your sketches. The menu ideas stuffed in your nightstand. You're meant for more than test kitchens, Ivy." He flashed me a smile, a rare, genuine smile that made my heart flutter. "You have a gift, Ivy. The way you connect with food and with people. It's rare. And I'll do whatever it takes to help you make that dream happen."
My throat tightened. "Cameron—"
"I'll fund it. Full creative control. No strings. Except maybe naming a dessert after me."
I felt my cheeks warm, both from the compliment and the sincerity in his voice. "That means a lot," I said, my voice soft. "But it's a big risk. I've been burned before, and I don't want to let anyone down. Including you."
He reached across the table, his hand covering mine. "You won't let anyone down. And even if you stumble, I'll be there to catch you. We're partners, remember?."
Something about the way he said it with certainty made me believe him. For so long, I'd been afraid to dream too big, to want too much. But now, with Cameron by my side, I felt like I could take on the world.
A laugh burst out of me, edged with tears. "You're serious."
"Deadly." He caught my hand, his calloused thumb tracing my knuckles. "You've spent your life building other people's dreams. Time to build yours."
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I blinked them away. "Okay," I said, nodding slowly. "Let's do it. Let's open a restaurant."
He stood, pulling me up with him. His lips brushed my temple. "You won't be alone." It was a soft, tender kiss that spoke of promises and a future together. When he pulled back, he kept his forehead resting against mine. "This is just the beginning, Ivy. I want to give you everything."
I fisted his shirt, breathing him in, fruity wine, crisp night air, and home. "You already have."
We lingered over dessert, the conversation light and easy. It was one of those rare, perfect moments where everything felt right. When we finally returned to the penthouse, I headed straight for the kitchen, craving a cup of tea to settle my nerves. Cameron followed, leaning against the counter as I filled the kettle.
"I can't stop thinking about it," I admitted, pulling a mug from the cabinet. "The restaurant. It's all I've ever wanted, but now that it's actually happening, it's overwhelming."
He stepped closer, his voice low and steady. "You'll handle it. You're the strongest person I know."
His words were like a balm to the fear that had been gnawing at me. I set the mug down and stepped into his arms, resting my head against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, grounding me.
"Thank you," I whispered. "For believing in me."
He kissed the top of my head, his breath warm against my skin. "Always."