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.”

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

mildly, swirling the wine in his glass. “I just thought you didn’t have time for cooking, considering how busy you

at the office, dinners with clients–she’d barely had time 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 good thing that following instructions had never

the warmth that spread down her throat. “I can follow instructions,”

that was your beef bourguignon back

out, though a faint flush crept up her cheeks. “I

disowned you,” he mused.

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 her fingers. “I was experimenting,” she

eyes glinted. “Experimenting?” he repeated, clearly amused. “You nearly burnt down the estate

was all sleek glass and gray skies, the cityscape of Paris stretching endlessly beneath a layer of clouds. The soft hum of traffic filtered through

rattle off updates. The headache thrumming at his temples wasn’t easing, and

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