The soft strains of jazz floated through the living room, a gentle backdrop to the warm glow of the overhead lights. The dining table was set neatly, crystal glasses catching the light, a bottle of red breathing beside a pair of half–filled glasses. The scent of roasted duck and citrus lingered in the air, rich and inviting.

Izzy watched Liam carefully, fork in hand, as he took a small bite of the Duck à l’Orange. His eyes narrowed slightly in concentration, chewing slowly. She leaned forward, eyes glinting with excitement.

“Well?” Izzy pressed, lips twitching at the corners. “Do you like it?”

Liam raised an eyebrow, setting his fork down. “This is Duck áà l’Orange?” he asked, a hint of amusement flickering in his

eyes.

Izzy rolled her eyes. “Obviously,” she huffed. “I just followed the recipe. It’s a bit complicated, but definitely worth it.”

Liam took another bite, chewing thoughtfully. He finally nodded, leaning back in his chair. “This is really good,” he admitted, lips twitching faintly. “I didn’t know you could cook something like this.”

fork. “Is that an insult?” she shot back, eyes narrowing

wine in his glass. “I just thought you didn’t have time for cooking, considering how busy you always are. This dish isn’t something for the

to breathe, let alone cook. And she was doing all those things for that damn Calen! “Don’t remind me,” she muttered. It was a

of wine, savoring the warmth that spread down her throat. “I can follow instructions,” she muttered, feigning nonchalance. “Besides, you make it

lips twitched. “Well,” he drawled, “considering the disaster that was your beef bourguignon back when

ago,” she bit out, though a faint flush crept up her cheeks. “I was just a kid.” Why was this man suddenly talking

grandfather nearly disowned you,” he

day. Her grandfather’s horrified expression, the way the entire kitchen had filled with smoke–the soup that had turned into a thick, inedible sludge. She grimaced, peeking at Liam between

repeated, clearly amused. “You nearly

chair, fingers drumming a slow rhythm against the polished desk. The view outside his office window was all sleek glass and gray skies, the cityscape of Paris stretching endlessly beneath a layer of

his nose as his assistant continued to rattle off updates. The headache thrumming

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