There’s an obvious power imbalance when one looks at our relationship from the outside. Though Theo has not, and likely will never, exert that power over me, it raises a few warrantedred flags. He can’t ignore that fact, and neither can I. It’s just the nature of a relationship like ours. There have been far too many situations in which the more powerful of the couple would use the relationship as a way to manipulate or control.
But I have no doubt in my gut that Theo would never.
He’s too kind, too focused on being equals when it comes to our relationship that he would never exert himself like that.
However, trying to convince everyone else of that might be more difficult.
He agreed that he would report the relationship by the end of the week. That gives him just a few days to figure out how he will present it in a way that doesn’t make it seem as though he’s taking advantage of me.
I offered to go with him to help smooth the matter over, but he refused, saying that this was something he had to handle on his own. He felt the need to assure them by himself that he had only the best intentions with me.
“Do you want to come over tonight?” Theo asks me once he’s standing on the sidewalk in front of his car. “We could swing by your place, and you could get some things. Spend the rest of the week with me.”
He stares at me with love in his eyes, and I agree right away, loving the idea of starting and ending each day with Theo. As soon as we’re in the car, Theo instructs the driver to swing by my apartment. Theo comes up with me and helps me gather what I need for the next few days.
As I’m packing some of my personal items, I toss a few extra in my bag, deciding that I might as well leave a few things at Theo’s place just in case I don’t have a chance to run home in between. We seem to be spending most nights together anyway. It only makes sense.
Once I’ve got what I need, we drive over to Theo’s penthouse. He helps me bring up my bags and sets them in hisbedroom while I scour his fridge, looking for something to cook up. He’s got a package of chicken and everything else that I’ll need to make one of my favorite casseroles.
I don’t waste any time, listening to my stomach rumble greedily. Pulling out everything I need, I set to work combining everything and heating up the oven to the temperature I’ll need to cook. Theo emerges just a few minutes later, now changed into a pair of sweatpants and a white t-shirt.
It’s such a stark difference from Work-Theo, as I’ve fondly started to call the version I get to see during the work day. Relaxed-Theo is just that, relaxed. He looks more human when he’s like this, rather than the CEO of a high-level commercial realty company.
“What are you making?”
“Poppyseed chicken casserole,” I tell him, pouring everything into a pan and rummaging around in his drawers until I find the aluminum foil.
“I’ve never had that,” he admits.
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Aren’t you supposed to have a meal prepper or a private chef?”
He laughs. “No, why do you ask?”
I shrug a shoulder. “All the books I read with big-shot billionaires always have a private chef who prepares their meals for them each week. I figured you’d have one too since you’re a?—”
“Big shot?” he fills in, amusement laced all over his tone. “I’m capable of cooking myself. In fact, I enjoy it when I’m not eating take-out. So no, I’ve never felt the need to hire someone to make my meals for me.”
He comes to stand behind me as I wrap the casserole pan in foil. His hands find my waist, and he squeezes appreciatively as he leans down until his mouth is right by my ear. “Though Iwill admit, seeing you cook for me is getting me all hot and bothered.”
“You’ll be lucky if I don’t give you food poisoning,” I joke, jabbing him lightly in the stomach as I go back over to his refrigerator. I find a package of frozen broccoli in his fridge and start preparing it in a bowl to serve with the casserole.
By the time the food is finished, I’m absolutely famished. And based on the way Theo is tracking my every move from his position at the breakfast bar, I’d say he’s feeling about the same. Wasting no time, I dish up the food onto two plates and pour us each a healthy serving of wine. I set the plates down on the table, and we dig in.
Theo moans out loud as soon as the first bite hits his tongue. He shoots me an accusatory glare as soon as he swallows it. “Are you telling me that you were able to cook like this the entire time?” I laugh to myself and shrug, feeling my cheeks warm under his gaze. “Why the hell have you been holding out on me?”
“Maybe you hadn’t deemed yourself worth it yet,” I tease him.
Theo smiles at me fondly. “But I have now?”
My eyes fall to my plate, then I look up at him again through my lashes. I think back to how Theo proclaimed to the entire Board (or what was left of them), unashamed, and I know my answer. “Yeah, I think so.”
“I can’t tell you how happy that makes me to hear that,” he says, his tone taking on a tenderness that makes my heart race.
He takes another appreciative bite of his dinner, and I do the same. We polish off our servings, and then Theo helps himself to another. As he’s finishing this last bit, something catches my attention out of the corner of my eye.
“It’s snowing,” I announce, startled, as I see the heavy, white flakes through Theo’s large living room windows.
Dishes forgotten, I bolt out of my chair and into the living room to get a better look at the first snowfall of the year. I wasn’t expecting snow for a little while longer, but this is a pleasant surprise.
