“I know, but I like your plan better.”
“Me too,” I hum against his skin.
“But at least for now…” Letting his words trail, he stares into my eyes as he drops slowly to his knees. My lips part and my breath hitches as I watch him move his mouth to my aching cock.
This perfect, impeccable man kneels for me, and it feels like a miracle. The fact that it feels anything at all is a miracle. I could get used to this. No more fights. Just this and them in this city.
Forever.
Normally, that word suffocates me. But maybe it’s the feel of his sinful mouth on my cock or the twinkle of the tower in the distance, but forever doesn’t feel so scary anymore.
Rule #27: Convince yourself that you deserve it.
Freya
David Bowie croons “Moonage Daydream” in my ear as Iplate the beef Wellington on the platter. As I run the blade of my knife along the crust, the satisfying scrape puts a smile on my face.
“Perfect.”
Quickly adding a garnish, one of the servers covers the dish with a cloche and carries it out of the kitchen to carve at the table.
The Wellington was the showstopper, so once it’s gone, I lean against the counter with a sigh of relief. Picking up the rag, I start cleaning. The two assistants I brought with me give each other a high five before congratulating me on a job well done.
“Let’s hope they don’t send anything back,” I say. They both laugh in response.
With this accomplishment under my belt, I look around at the messy kitchen and replay everything we did today. There were only a few minor hiccups, but for the most part, I somehow managed to pull off this job. A full catering job. On my own.
I did that.
Remembering Julian’s words of encouragement, forcing me to recognize that I earned this job, a feeling of pride swells inside me.
Amelia sneaks into the kitchen, beaming. When our eyes meet, she starts to hop up and down in glee. She probably couldn’t care less about catering jobs, but she’s excited for me because that’s just the type of person Amelia is.
“It all looks so stunning, Freya!” she squeals. “You did it!”
She wraps her arms around me, and we hop around the kitchen for a moment. “Are they eating?” I ask.
“They aredevouringit, girl. Everything is so delicious.”
“Good,” I reply with satisfaction.
“My mom wants you to come out in a few minutes.”
My eyes widen. “What? Why?”
“To show their appreciation. Duh.”
“I have to clean up in here,” I reply, moving a pan to the sink.
“Absolutely not. Someone else can do that,” she says, taking the pan from my hand. “You worked your butt off all day, and now you deserve to come hang out with us.”
She undresses me, tearing off my caked apron and plucking my earbuds out, throwing it all on the counter.
“Besides,” she says, linking her arm with mine. “Your hunky pilot is out there.”
My feet plant as a nervous energy halts me in my tracks. “Amelia, wait.”
She turns to me in confusion.
