Chapter Twenty-Seven #2
As I headed home in the afternoon, I fantasized about a hot bath and some takeout.
After the long day I’d had, nothing sounded more appealing than soaking in a tub until my fingers pruned, while stuffing my face with something greasy and carb-loaded.
Maybe I’d even catch up on the true crime documentary I’d started last week.
I trudged up the steps to my apartment, fishing my keys out of my bag.
As I pulled them free, the tiny silver pig charm from Tiffany’s jingled against the keyring—a tiny, ridiculously cute, reassuring presence.
I smiled at my little companion, mentally debating between lo mein or pizza.
But the moment I opened my door, I froze.
The air smelled incredible—spicy and mouthwatering. The scent of flowers and fine food tickled my nostrils, and I smelled something with aromatic herbs and a hint of butter.
Candlelight flickered across the walls, soft and golden.
The table, which usually hosted my unopened mail and half-drunk coffee cups, was transformed into something out of a movie scene.
A pristine white tablecloth, two plates set with polished silverware, and a bottle of wine chilling in a bucket of ice.
And flowers—there were flowers everywhere, each surface adorned by crystal vases filled with red roses.
In the background, the sensual, sultry notes of Flamenco guitar undulated through the air—the kind of music that turns your blood hot and your body fluid.
I blinked, my brain short-circuiting. This couldn’t be my apartment.
“Welcome home, sweetheart,” Cam’s voice came from the kitchen.
I turned, and there he was, leaning casually against the counter, looking ridiculously sexy in a crisp white button-down with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his forearms. His smile made the dozens of candles pale by comparison.
I took a moment to find my voice. “What is happening?”
He grinned, pushing off the counter and strolling toward me. “Romance, obviously.”
“You did all this?”
“Well, I had a little help. The food is from La Sirena. I figured I’d spare you my dinner cooking.”
“La Sirena?” My jaw nearly hit the floor. That place had a six-month waitlist.
“I called in a favor.”
I took a deep breath, trying to process everything.
The food. The candles. The sheer amount of flowers filling my tiny apartment, making it look like the inside of a fairytale.
And then my eyes landed on the far wall, where the massive box that held the sex swing was nowhere to be seen.
I blinked at the empty space. “Where’s the—”
“Oh, that? I had it taken care of.” His expression remained completely innocent.
I narrowed my eyes. “Define taken care of.”
He casually walked over to me, taking my coat and hanging it up. “Let’s just say Britt received a very large, very embarrassing delivery this afternoon. Two can play this game.”
I clapped a hand over my mouth, my body shaking with barely contained laughter. “Oh, my God. You’re evil.”
“Aw, that’s so sweet. Thank you.” He grinned, looking genuinely pleased. Then he took my hand and led me toward the table. “Now, if you’ll let me spoil you tonight, I promise I won’t make you sing karaoke again.”
I washed my hands at the kitchen sink before sliding into the chair he pulled out for me. My heart was doing something funny in my chest—one of those deep, aching flutters you feel right before you realize you’re completely gone for someone.
“You planned all this?”
He sat down across from me, his gaze intent on mine. “Of course. You deserve it.”
I exhaled, looking around the apartment, taking in every detail. No one had ever done something like this for me.
I swallowed the knot in my throat, willing myself not to become too sentimental.
“Thank you, Cam. This means… a lot.”
“You’re most welcome.” He reached for my hand across the table, and brushed his lips over my knuckles. “You deserve the best of everything. Now, are you ready to be wined and dined?”
He poured me a glass of wine.
“Yes, please.” I beamed, giddy with excitement. “By the way, how did you get into my apartment?”
“I borrowed Sebastian’s spare key. Figured it was safer than breaking in through the window.”
“Smart man.”
God, he was magnificent! Every time I thought he couldn’t possibly be more handsome, he surprised me. There was a quiet confidence about him—so casual, so completely in control that the air around him practically buzzed with magnetic pull.
“Thank you. So, how was your day?” he asked, oblivious of my fangirling. “Any thrilling schoolyard dramas? More existential crises over reading assignments?”
I sighed, picking up my fork. “Let’s see… One kid insisted that unicorns are real and got into a heated argument with another kid who claimed they weren’t. That debate ended in tears.”
Cam chuckled, arranging his napkin. “Which side were you on?”
“The unicorns, obviously.”
“Obviously.”
He speared a bite of pasta, watching me with quiet amusement.
I took a moment to savor the food—because holy hell, this was actual fine dining.
The pappardelle melted on my tongue, drenched in parmesan cream and laced with black truffle, the richness cut by roasted garlic and a kiss of lemon zest. The branzino practically dissolved under my fork, crisp-skinned and buttery, with the warm, nutty aroma of sage.
Even the Brussels sprouts were seductive—sweet, smoky, and tangled with pancetta.
I took a sip of wine, closing my eyes. “I feel like I should say something deep and meaningful to match the level of this meal, but all I can come up with is ‘mmm.’”
Cam grinned, forking a bite of his own branzino. “That’s my favorite sound. I plan to hear it a lot tonight.”
Heat crept up my cheeks and I glanced down at my plate, wondering what more the night had in store for me. It had just started, and it was practically orgasmic.
I took a sip of water to cool off. “So, how was your day? Anything exciting happen in the world of software today?”
He blotted his mouth with his napkin, his expression animated. “Actually, yes. We finalized the funding for a new grant today. It’s something I’ve been working on for a while.”
“A grant? Like, a research grant?”
“Yeah. It’s for lung cancer research—early detection, to be more precise. When my dad was diagnosed, it was already stage four. Treatment options are so limited right now that stage four is basically a death sentence. It was too late for my dad, but I hope I can help change that for other people.”
The quiet weight of his words settled between us, and I reached for his hand instinctively. He squeezed mine back, his thumb brushing over my knuckles.
“Cam, that’s incredible. It’s so generous of you.”
He shrugged, looking embarrassed. “It’s what anyone who can afford to spare a few bucks should do.
The world would be a much better place if we focused on things like these instead of wars and power struggles.
But I want to do more than just write a check, so we’re launching an awareness program too.
Omega is developing an AI-based app to help people quit smoking.
We’re partnering with hospitals to offer it for free. ”
I stared at him, feeling something shift inside me.
I had always known Cam was smart, charismatic, ridiculously attractive.
But this? This was something else entirely.
This was a man who wasn’t just successful—he actually cared.
He was the kind of man who turned grief into purpose and loss into action.
And that, more than anything, made me fall a little harder.
“Wow,” I whispered. “The world desperately needs more people like you.”
He smiled at me, his eyes crinkling warmly. “And like you. Born educators who believe in unicorns.”
I laughed, raising my glass of wine in a toast. “To unicorns.”
Conversation flowed effortlessly as we enjoyed our meal. We talked about ourselves, avoided the subject of our families or tomorrow’s dinner, and somewhere in-between bites of pasta and stolen glances over flickering candlelight, I forgot about the world outside this little bubble.
By the time we finished, my stomach was pleasantly full, and my body was warm—not just from the wine, but from the way Cam looked at me. I could swear I was the only thing in the world that mattered to him right now.
He stood, collecting our plates. “You sit tight. I’ll clean up.”
I arched a brow. “You’re going to clean?”
“Yes.”
“Please don’t do to my kitchen what you did to my spice rack—”
“Go relax,” he cut in smoothly, taking the dishes to the sink. “I have plans for you.”
I leaned back in my chair, watching him disappear around the corner. His ass in those tailored slacks was truly a work of art. Poor Irma would hyperventilate trying to sculpt him naked.
My skin prickled in anticipation of his plans. Whatever it was, I hope it involved getting naked together. I was flexible about the rest.
A few minutes later he reappeared, wiping his hands on a towel, that mischievous glint still in his eyes. “Come with me.”
“Where are we going?”
“Trust me.”
“Said the spider to the fly.”