The Billionaire’s Pawn

LONDON

The alarm went off.

“Oh no! This is not happening.” I turned off the fire and waved off the smoke as it began to sting my eyes.

“What the hell is happening in my kitchen?” Striker’s voice echoed in the entire house, startling me. He quickly went to turn off the alarm.

“What do you think it looks like? I’m cooking.”

He took the towel and waved at the alarm. “I thought you were trying to burn the house. Open the windows.”

I rushed to open the windows. Seconds later, the smoke slightly cleared, and then I saw him shaking his head as he looked down at the burnt meat in the pan.

I just pursed my lips in disappointment when he looked at me.

“Where’s Sonia? I hired her to avoid this?” He wasn’t exactly angry, but he wasn’t happy either.

I went to the convection to check if my last remaining meal was cooked. “I gave her days off.”

“Why did you do that?” His tone began to annoy me. Why did he have to throw me a lot of questions when I was here bustling?

I checked my food. Finally, in my twenty-three years, I managed to cook a meal without burning a kitchen. “Sonia received a call that her mother fell from the stairs and was being rushed to the hospital. I told her to take some days off.”

“Wear mitts, Vanderford.” He groaned.

“Of course I will.” I rolled my eyes as I picked up the gloves and put them on.

“Let me do it.”

My eyes narrowed. “How will I learn if you keep doing everything for me? I can do this.”

“Okay.” He picked up the pan, put it on the sink, and ran it with water.

I picked up the lasagna carefully. The top had a nice golden brown color. It actually looked nice and smelled delicious.

“I did it.” I giggled and grinned at him. I was proud of myself that it was successful.

Instead of congratulating me, he said flatly, “I’ll be the judge of that.”

“I guess I just have to eat the lasagna alone,” I said in dismay.

“What were you making on the pan? Pan-seared steak.” He wandered his gaze around the kitchen. Yeah, it looked messy, but I could clean it and make it look spotless again.

“Yeah. I was busy slicing some fruits and forgot to flip the sides. I still kinda learning to avoid cutting off my fingers.” My answer made him groan.”

“And maybe the fire was too high,” he said.

“Probably. I’ll prepare the table. Are you brave enough to taste my lasagna?”

“Set the table for two.”

I took some cutlery from the drawer and plates and grabbed napkins. Before I headed to the dining table, I stopped at the door and watched him take a fork and taste my lasagna. When he smiled, I went to prepare the table smiling.

He came carrying the dish and placed it on the table. “Who taught you?”

“I can be attentive and persistent.” I went back to the kitchen to take a bottle of wine. He also came back and picked up glasses.

Once the table was set, he served me the meal I had prepared for almost four hours. The mozzarella stretched like in an ad. He then pours wine into my glass. When he sat in his chair, he inspected a good portion of the well-layered and juicy meal on his plate. He cut a small piece and smelled it before putting it into my mouth.

He took his time to chew before he swallowed it. I watched his reaction the entire time, and as seconds passed, he still had no verdict.

“That bad, huh?”

“Are you sure you didn’t have help preparing this?”

“I swear I was alone the entire time.”

“I’m impressed. It’s actually good. Try it. It’s well-seasoned. The pasta is well-cooked. The meat sauce is tasty. I taste three kinds of cheese. Did you add sugar to the sauce?” His voice showed a hint of pride as he complimented my cooking. That was first.

“A little. Is it too sweet?”

“No. It’s perfect. Who taught you?” he asked again.

“I watched it on YouTube and searched the recipe online.”

“Your first try?”

“Yes,” I proudly said. “Yesterday, I cooked lemon butter chicken without burning it. Sonia did the preparation, though.” I started eating. He was telling the truth. “Hmm. It’s good.”

He chuckled as he shook his head. “You didn’t believe me?”

“I thought you just didn’t wanna hurt my feelings.”

“I’m not yet dead, so it’s not poisonous. It’s actually a good lasagna.”

“I know how to use the washing machine. This morning I washed my clothes. Not my work clothes, though, because I’m still practicing using the steamer.”

“What else did you learn?” Now he looked amused.

“To have long patience.”

“Good idea.”

After our dinner, he helped me clean up my mess even if I told him I could do it myself, so we finished quickly. Before we left the kitchen, he went to check the cupboards and the fridge.

“You’re eating well.”

“Yes. Why?”

“I just wanna make sure you’re not starving yourself.”

I took my wine with me when I went to the couch. He picked up some of the scattered papers on the table.

“Why are you here?” I shut up when he looked at me. “I’m sorry. Let me rephrase it-”

“Just checking on you.”

“I’m good. Thanks. Anyway, now that you’re here, I wanna propose something.”© 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.

“Bags.”

“Yes.”

“It’s a good idea.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You can add more shoe designs, like flats. I don’t see too many flats. Casual shoes, too.”

“I want the bag design that you made. We’ll buy the rights.” I smiled at him.

“My company will buy my design?” He laughed. That was the first time I heard him laugh since we separated.

My smile faded. “Never mind.”

“Don’t buy it. I want the credit and name the bag after you.”

“Why me? I didn’t design it.”

“Marguerite.”

“Oh.” He made me speechless.

“I will design a pair of shoes if you want.”

“Can I name it Cade?” I literally batted my lashes.

“No.” Bummer.

“Asher?”

“That’s Pa’s project.”

Pa. Wow. He called Moses pa. “Striker then?”

“There’s Striker fighter jet. Well, it’s not yet launched, but it will soon.”

“He really loves you.”

“Name whatever you want. Why didn’t you work on the study.” He smiled.

“I didn’t wanna impose.”

“You’re not. When I said you’ll be staying here, you have access to all corners of this house.”

“Thanks.”

Later in the night, he went to his study, so I decided to get to bed early. When I woke up, I wasn’t alone in bed anymore, which startled me.

It was Striker, shirtless. He already changed to a pajama bottom.

He was hard and firm, but his skin was soft and smooth. And those abs that I felt once against my fingertips. My mind went somewhere dirty and wild. I swallowed hard at the thought of something soft and smooth and hard. The idea alone was enough to make my inner wall clench, waking up something deep inside me.

I bit my bottom lip and moved to my side since I used to sleep alone, and this was his bed in the first place.

“Vanderford?” His voice was deep and gravelly.

“Did I wake you up?” I asked in a low voice.

“No.” He let go of a slow breath.

“I thought you left last night. Where do you stay anyway?”

“I have an apartment.” Of course, he had. He could afford to buy another house bigger than this.

“Night.”

“Wait. I wanna talk to you about tomorrow.”

I faced him. He was lying on the side, facing me. “What about tomorrow?”

“We’re going to Italy?”

My sleepiness just vanished. “You’re going to Italy with who?” I shouldn’t have asked. What if he said he was going to meet a beautiful young Italian he met in Capria?

“You, me, Pa, Linden, and Reed.”

“May I ask why?”

“I’ll tell you in the morning.”

“I’ll inform Neke early in the morning then.”

“She already fixed your schedule.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks.”

“Get some sleep. The flight is long.”

***

I woke up earlier than Striker. That was the most peaceful sleep I had since we lived separately.

I brewed coffee and toasted some loaves of bread. I still didn’t know the purpose of this trip, but maybe I needed fresh air somewhere in Italy like Venice, Florence, and of course, Rome, but I felt like this was not a leisurely one.

“You woke up early?” Striker sauntered to the kitchen with disheveled hair but still looked hot. Thankfully, he put on a shirt. He had already snatched a toast and taken a big bite.

“Yes.” I picked a cup and poured him a freshly brewed coffee.

“Where in Italy are we going?”

“Sicily?”

“How many days?”

“Two days, three tops.”

“Business trip?”

“Just pack your clothes, and we’ll talk in the jet.” He sipped his coffee.

“Sure.”

His phone rang.

“Your phone has been in the kitchen since you arrived?”

“No. I just put it there right now.” He went to pick up his phone. “I woke up to the constant call from Linden. He doesn’t know I slept here last night.”

“Can I prepare you breakfast?”

“I should have married a chef if I only ask you to cook for me, Vanderford. I’m good. Thank you.”

My brows shot up. “That’s the nicest thing he’d ever said since forever.”

He might have just heard me as he paused for a moment before answering the call. “Dad.” So this time, it was Tate calling. “I’m fine. You already here?”

I sipped my coffee in silence. Then I remembered that I had to pack my clothes.

I went up, and he was still talking to his dad.

“Dad, calm down. I’m not going to war. Jesus, you and Moses worried a lot. I’m an adult, for God’s sake. When was the last time I’d been reckless?” He calmed down a bit. “Yeah. I’m home.”

Jeez, I was eavesdropping.

“Vanderford is coming with me.”