Billionaires Dollar Series

Billion Dollar Fiance 19



“I’ve got time.”

I pull away toward the waterfront, leaning against the railing. His hand slips out of mine.

It’s a long moment before either of us speaks. “You don’t have to tell me,” Liam says finally. “It would inform my performance, though. Are we rubbing his nose in it? Or trying to make him jealous so you can get him back?”

“I don’t want him back.”

Liam’s snort is soft. “All right. Granted, I don’t have a stake in this game, but I’m glad. He seems… unsavory.”

The term makes me smile down at the lapping waves below. “It took me two years to figure that out.”

“You were a part of his fan club back there?”

The question makes me laugh. “Oh, yes. He’s a brilliant cook, you see. And he’s so damn arrogant that it masked his other flaws.”

Liam makes a small sound, encouraging and disparaging rolled into one.

“After a bit of soul-searching, I’ve realized he probably wasn’t all that good to begin with.” I toe a pebble over the edge of the boardwalk, hearing the soft splash as it falls to a watery grave below.

“I’m impressed you didn’t quit.”

“Oh, I couldn’t! Marco’s is one of the best restaurants in the city. Do you know how many applications he gets a month for line cooks?”

Liam’s lips tug. “No, I don’t.”

“Well, it’s many. And I’ll be damned if I leave just because of Jason.”

He exhales. “You haven’t changed one bit.”

Before I can figure out what to make of that, he turns, crossing his arms over his chest. “What was all the talk about a culinary fellowship? He didn’t seem capable of shutting up about it.”

I heave a big sigh. “It’s a pretty big deal. We both applied, actually.”

“And he got short-listed.”

“And you…?”

“I didn’t get an email today,” I say. “I checked.”

Liam raises an eyebrow. “When was the last time you checked?”

“A few hours ago, I think.”

“Check again,” he tells me. “Places like that will sometimes send their acceptance or rejection emails in batches to avoid overloading their system. And did you look in your spam folder?”

“No, no, I haven’t.” I fumble in my pocket for my phone. “You think it might have ended up there?”

“It’s worth a try.”

I refresh my email app with trembling fingers, Liam’s warm presence at my shoulder. Like magic, an email appears at the top, sent just two hours ago.

Washington Institute of Culinary Arts.

I close my eyes and hold the phone out to him. “I can’t read it. You do it.”

He accepts my phone. A faint pause, and then there’s a smile in his voice. “All right. Are you ready?”

“Liam!”

“Dear Miss Webb. I’m writing to inform you that you have been shortlisted as one of the candidates for this year’s culinary fellowship. This means you will be competing-”

He breaks off with a huff as my arms come around him. It takes only a moment for his hands to rest on my back, palms flat, pulling me tight against his warmth.Belonging © NôvelDram/a.Org.

“You know what this means,” I say. “I’m going to be using your kitchen morning, lunch and dinner!”

Liam opens the door to his Seattle apartment two days later, one hand on the doorframe and the other in the pocket of his suit.

He looks down at my grocery bags. “Planning on feeding an army?”

I hand him two bags, bending to pick up two more. “I’m still in the testing phase.”

“Which means what? That you’re making a ton of dishes?”

“Tons and tons.” I follow him through an apartment devoid of personality, an expensive rental condo in various shades of beige.

“Here it is,” Liam announces, turning the corner to the open-plan kitchen.

Granite countertops.

A six-plated stove.

An induction oven.

“Oh,” I murmur, putting my grocery bags on the large kitchen island. “It’s perfect.”

“Bigger than you have at home?”

“Just a tad,” I say, walking around to open cabinet doors. “You’re sure you don’t mind me here?”

“No. I haven’t used this kitchen once since I moved in.”

I pause, my hand hovering over a shiny appliance I can’t wait to try. “You haven’t done what?”

He shrugs. “I order in most days.”

“That’s sacrilege with a place like this,” I say, excitement thrumming through my veins. There are so many dishes I’ve been perfecting over the years, and now to put them all together, a menu to wow the selection committee.

“I’ll be in my home office if you need anything.” Liam is looking down at his phone, fingers already flying as he replies to an email.


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