She remembered that.
If she weren’t so guarded all the time, maybe the world wouldn’t see her as a bitch. Maybethey’d see this version—the one standing in my kitchen, barefoot, in pajamas, making me a goddamn sandwich.
“That’s sad,” I murmur with a crooked smile, watching her shake the pan. Her ass jiggles just enough to make my dick twitch.
She doesn’t miss a beat. “So is the fact you’re probably hard from just watching my ass move around this kitchen.”
She throws me a glance over her shoulder, smiling like she’s already won, and snatches a spatula off the counter.“The key to a good grilled cheese is all in the butter. And good cheese. Too little butter, it burns. Too much, and it’s just buttered bread.”
I cross my arms, leaning against the counter. “Is that so?”
She drops a slice of bread in the pan, layers cheese, then tops it with another slice. The sound of the sizzle fills the kitchen like a slow seduction.
“So this was the only thing you cooked growing up?” I bite back a laugh.
“Yeah. When Olga was gone or busy with her family, I’d get hungry. My mom kept the pantry locked up—she believed in intermittent fasting, like it was gospel. But she never thought to lock the fridge.”
She pauses, flipping the sandwich, and that smell—rich butter, melted cheese—makes my stomach groan. “I’d sneak into thekitchen in the middle of the night and make grilled cheese sandwiches.”
“How old were you when your mom started doing that?”
“Eight. Right after, she put me into acting.”
“Holy shit, that’s young.”
She doesn’t turn, just keeps working. “Yeah. Being on camera adds ten pounds. And I liked to eat. My mom never let me forget that.”
“Did you like acting?”
“I used to love it.”
The way she says it makes my gut twist. She flips the sandwich again, and I see the shift—her mouth tenses. Her voice drops.
“Until I realized I didn’t anymore.”
“What does that mean?”
She doesn’t look at me as she speaks. “It’s no secret the industry is corrupt. Most people in Hollywood are into dark, twisted shit. The rest… probably sucked dick to get where they are.”
Damn. “Are you always this blunt?”
She laughs softly, grabbing two plates. Loco pads along behind her, tail wagging, as she sets the table.
“I just cut through the bullshit.”
“Were you a chunky kid or something?”
“Now who’s being blunt?” she quips, smiling as she sets the sandwiches down.
“I mean, your mom sounds extreme.“I wasn’t chunky. She was just a perfectionist who never made it. She was beautiful, but not talented. I was both. And she hated that.” She trails off, her voice catching slightly.
“But what?”
Her lips part, then shut. “That industry is filled with predators.”
My eyes drop to the tile floor. Her tone changed. Everything changed.
“Men with power are usually the worst. I thought you were, too… until I saw your tiny house.”
