Page 158 of My Real Love Affair

“I really can’t just let you up without Mr. Bancroft’s permission,” he said.

“I understand. But it’s a surprise. I’m his girlfriend.” I pulled out my phone, showing him one of the photos from Tahiti. “See? That’s us. Together. I’m making him dinner. Trust me, if you don’t let me up and we have to call him, he’s not going to be happy. And I know he’s a good tipper. What do you think will happen to those tips when he finds out you wouldn’t let his girlfriend up?”

He squinted at the photo, then at me, then back at the photo. “I don’t know…”

“Please? I’ve been planning this all day. I have all the groceries. I promise I’m not a crazy stalker or anything.” I gave him my best smile, the one I used in Instagram stories. “I’ll even give you my full name and ID. You can write it down. If anything happens, you’ll know exactly who to blame.”

He wavered. I could see it. I was close to pushing him over the edge.

“And,” I added, “I’m sure Mr. Bancroft would appreciate that you helped me surprise him. He’s been having a rough couple of days. I promise you I will leave him in a much better mood.”

That did it. He sighed and pulled out a logbook. “Fine. But I’m documenting everything. Full name, ID, time of entry, all of it.”

“Thank you so much! You’re the best.”

I gave him all my information, signed where he indicated, and practically skipped to the elevator with my bags of groceries.

The penthouse was exactly as I remembered. All sleek, modern, and somehow impersonal despite being Austin’s home for the past few months. It was a hotel suite after all. He was such a big personality. How could his surroundings look so dull?

But I understood why. Kind of. Austin had been running from his family, and responsibility. He’d been running from commitment. Of course, his place would reflect that transience. He didn’t know how to put down roots. Or he didn’t want to. I got it. I really did, which was why I was going to make it feel like home for him. I wanted him to see it was possible to settle down and put down roots. Real roots.

I set the groceries on the massive kitchen island and looked around. The kitchen was state of the art, all gleaming stainless steel and expensive appliances. Now I just had to figure out how to use it all.

I found the sound system first, a tablet mounted on the wall that controlled everything. After a few minutes of poking around, I managed to connect my Spotify and put on my cooking playlist. Music filled the space, and I felt myself relax into the familiar rhythm of meal prep. I loved cooking. It was my love language.

The chicken was first. I bought a good one from the butcher, already seasoned and ready to roast. Into the oven it went. Then the potatoes. I found a pot after opening approximately seven cabinets and got them boiling. The kitchen was absurdly well equipped for someone who probably never cooked. I couldn’t imagine Austin ever trying to do something as basic as boiling water. It just wasn’t his thing.

Which was why I was going to show him what it could be like to have someone like me around. He took me to Tahiti and on a yacht. I couldn’t give him that level of joy, but I could definitely show him the perks of having a girlfriend.

As I worked, I started to find my rhythm. Vegetables chopped and seasoned. Gravy ingredients prepped and ready. The expensive wine I brought opened to breathe.

I had dressed for this too. My sash dress was casual enough for cooking but sexy enough for after. And underneath? Thelingerie I had bought specifically for tonight. Black lace that made me feel powerful and beautiful and ready for whatever came next.

The chicken was roasting, the potatoes were boiling, and the vegetables were in the oven. The gravy was simmering when I heard the ding of the elevator.

The door opened, and Austin stepped inside, his jacket slung over one arm, his tie loosened. He looked tired. Stressed. Then he saw me. “Melody?”

I grinned, swaying my hips to the music. “Surprise.”

He dropped his jacket on the nearest chair, crossed the space between us in three strides, and pulled me into his arms, kissing me like he’d been starving for it.

I melted into him, my hands finding his chest, his finding my waist.

“What are you doing here?” he murmured against my lips.

“Making you dinner. I missed you.”

“Missed you too.” He pulled back, looking around at the chaos of the kitchen. “How did you get in? Did the front desk let you up?”

“I was very convincing.”

His eyes narrowed. “What did you do? Pay him off?”

I tried to keep a straight face. “I flashed him.”

Austin’s eyes went wide. “You what?”

I burst out laughing. “I’m kidding! I was just very nice. Showed him our pictures from Tahiti. Signed my life away in his logbook. He let me up. But I did think about flashing him. If he didn’t let me up after begging, I was absolutely going to show him my boobs.”