“I’ve always liked things a certain way. Order. Precision. I self-diagnosed as borderline OCD. But after that mission, when I lost my team, it got worse. I needed control. I needed every detail accounted for. The kitchen became the one place I could manage it. If I controlled the variables, nothing could fall apart.”
I had guessed he struggled with it, but hearing him say it makes my chest ache. “Doing everything three time?—"
“That’s the part people see.” He firms his lips. “As head chef, it helps. I have backups. Plans for every disaster. In a crisis, that’s useful.”
“But living like that, always second and third guessing yourself, must be exhausting.”
His features soften. “You understand me, and that means so much. Sharing this with you already makes me feel lighter.” He cups my cheek, “I’m so grateful I found you."
"We should thank Phoenix for that. If it weren’t for her, we wouldn’t have met.” I turn my face into his palm and kiss it. “You need to get therapy to help you manage your condition.”
His lips turn in that half smirk. “I’m way ahead of you, baby. When I woke up and found I was accidentally choking you, I signed up for therapy the very next day.”
My heart flutters in my chest. If I needed more evidence of him expressing his love for me, then this is it.
I lift on tiptoes and tilt my chin. He meets my lips and devours me like I’m candy. And oh God, I want him so much.
That’s when the phone in his pocket buzzes.
He groans into my mouth.
We continue to kiss. The phones stops buzzing, then starts again.
I pull away, panting. “You should take it.”
“Fuck it."
“It might be important.” I smile up at him. “Take. It.”
He makes a growling sound at the back of his throat. Without taking his gaze off my face, he pulls out his phone and answers it. “Hello.”
He listens to the voice at the other end.
"She does?" He winces. "Is there no way out?" He listens again, then sighs. "Fine, tell her we’ll be there by seven p.m."
He disconnects and pockets his phone.
"What is it?"
"That was Tristan. Margot insists we have a family dinner this evening.” He releases me with reluctance.
"Is that normal?" I step out of his arms.
"She likes to have us over for a monthly family event." He shrugs. "Not that any of us are that keen on it. But we go out of respect for her wishes."
"Have your relations with your grandmother always been strained?"
"I remember her being happier when our grandfather was alive. He and Margot ran the Hamilton Group together. But he died not long after I turned fifteen. She was heartbroken. And bitter that she lost him. The plan was for Tristan to take over as co-CEO alongside Margot. For the two of them to run the company together."
He plates out the bacon and the sausages. Then carefully adds a portion of the baked beans, and a slice of toast.
"What happened?" I’m intrigued at finding out more of the history of the Hamilton Group which, in a way, is also James’ history.
"It became clear that there wasn't room for both Tristan and our grandmother at the top. Tristan was supposed to be co-CEO, but in practice, he was answering to her.
"He left and launched his own company, separate from the family business."
Without prompting, I butter the toast. We’ve worked together so long in the kitchen, I can read his body language and know what needs to be done.
