Chapter 63

“You sure he’s posing in his bed on a rarely rising… at the pulsating feast of the club’s head chair, his demeanor… and his…,” someone slurred. “Ears play from whose… The well… shelf with the fancy… reeking of expensive cologne, dunning wind… his place, which… I knee and aprons, mix of defense and drunken…”

Another voice cut in. “Please…”

Then came a third. “Glow cable wiped his mouth with the back of… seen, and the year is… you really think she’d…”

A fourth interjected, “W…”

Finally, the first voice again, “…dur all of that way because of some… dur be durred, they kitter as the pestulating rhythm of the music drowned this…”

“That she… that…”

“I’m talking about Caden. I don't know what you were expecting,” Nico said, leaning back against the bar in his glass. His dark eyes fixed on Calen, who was slumped in his chair, nursing his drink like it held the solution to all his problems. Nico finally raised a brow. “You seem to think he’ll just come running back like she…”

“Are you dissing me?”

Calen shot him a glare. “He will,” he said flatly, setting his glass down with a clink. “Izzy’s always been predictable. Focused on work. She doesn’t have it in her to walk away for good.”

“Predictable,” Nico echoed, his tone laced with disbelief. “You do realize you cheated on her with her cousin, right? And not just a cousin—Monica, the one person she actually trusted in her life aside from Amalia. You think she’s just going to forgive that?”

Calen leaned forward, rubbing his temples. “You don’t know Izzy like I do. She’s cold, yes, but she’s also practical. And smart.” He hated to admit that Izzy might be smarter than he was. “She knows I’m the best she’s going to get. Who else is going to put up with her workaholic tendencies? With her always being unavailable because she’s too busy saving the company?”

Nico stared at him for a long moment before letting out a low chuckle. “The arrogance is astounding, mate. Do you even hear yourself?”

“It’s not arrogance, it’s the truth. Izzy doesn’t have anyone else. Her parents are gone, her grandfather’s dead. Her only family is Monica and Amalia, who raised her since she was young. What’s she going to do, cut all ties? That’s impossible.”

Nico took a sip of his drink, watching him over the rim of his glass. “So, let me get this straight,” he said after a pause. “You think she’ll forgive you because she needs you to stay connected to the only family she has left? That’s your grand plan?”

“Exactly,” Calen replied, sitting up straighter. “She’s angry now, but she’ll calm down. She always does. She’s smart enough to know that burning bridges doesn’t solve anything.”

“You really don’t get it, do you? Izzy isn’t just smart; she’s ruthless when she needs to be. You’ve been banking on her putting up with your nonsense because she loved you. But the thing about love, Calen? It doesn’t survive betrayal. And if I were you, I wouldn’t underestimate what she’s capable of when she decides she’s done.”

“Are you really my friend?” Calen snorted. He came here thinking that this man would at least tell him what he wanted to hear. Why was he siding with Izzy? Calen’s expression darkened, but he said nothing else. He reached for his drink, downing the rest in one gulp. Nico watched him silently, his earlier amusement fading into something sharper.

“You should ask yourself this,” Nico added, setting his glass down with deliberate care. “When she looks at you now, what do you think she sees? Because if you think she still sees the man she loved, you’re delusional.”

The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the clink of ice in Nico’s glass as he refilled it. Calen didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the table as though searching for answers in the wood grain.

Meanwhile, Izzy stared at her reflection in the mirror, her cheeks still flushed. Why wasn’t it going away? she thought as she took a deep breath she didn’t know she needed. Then she smiled at her reflection.

Why the hell am I blushing around him? She cleared her throat, then went out of the toilet and walked back into the kitchen.

“All right, you can cut it like this, precisely like this,” Liam’s voice greeted her as he instructed one of the maids to cut some vegetables for their dinner. Izzy smiled.

“Do you need my help?” she asked. To be honest, she was surprised to know he was here this early. Liam was already here when they arrived.

Liam glanced at her with a small nod. “Sure, can you handle julienning these vegetables?” He gestured toward a cutting board stacked with brightly colored carrots, peppers, and zucchini.

Izzy picked up the knife, inspecting it before asking. “What exactly are you making?”

“It’s ratatouille,” Liam answered while stirring something on the stove. “A classic Provencal dish. Vegetables cooked in layers with olive oil and herbs. It’s a bit fussy, but the flavors are worth the effort.”

She raised an eyebrow, her hands already moving to peel a carrot. “And what inspired this sudden culinary endeavor?” She wondered why he was suddenly cooking food when this mansion had five maids just in charge of the kitchen.

Liam smirked. “My grandmother used to make it. She said it’s the kind of dish that teaches patience. It’s simple but demands attention to detail. A lot like certain people I know.”

Izzy paused, glancing at him briefly. “I’ll assume that wasn’t a jab?”

“An observation,” he replied, sprinkling salt into the pan with precision.

The kitchen settled into a comfortable rhythm. Izzy worked on the vegetables, slicing them into perfect, even strips, while Liam layered them meticulously in a shallow baking dish. Occasionally, he would glance her way, checking her progress, but his corrections were minimal.

“Is this good enough?” she asked, holding up a thin slice of zucchini.

“Perfect,” he said, barely looking up. “You’re a natural.”

Izzy chuckled softly. “Hardly. I’ve never made something like this before.” She knew how to cook, but she’d never tried something complicated. She always prefers the easier, quicker ones.

“You should try cooking more often,” Liam remarked as he stepped aside to let her place the vegetables into the dish. “It’s oddly therapeutic.”

“I’m starting to see the appeal,” she admitted, her fingers brushing against his as they adjusted the arrangement of the vegetables. She quickly moved her hand away, focusing on her task. “I might actually enjoy this.”

Liam didn’t respond immediately, his eyes lingering on her for a moment before he turned back to the stove. “You’re doing well.”

Izzy felt a warmth that wasn’t from the oven, and she busied herself with wiping down the counter. “What’s next?”

“We bake it low and slow,” Liam said, sliding the dish into the oven. He set a timer and leaned against the counter, folding his arms. “And then we eat.”

Izzy nodded, leaning back slightly and glancing around the kitchen.

“This is the part where you say I am full of surprises,” he suddenly mused.

Izzy lifted an eyebrow, crossing her arms as she leaned slightly against the counter. She caught herself staring at Liam. Her eyes briefly dropped to his lips, unsolicited memories of the kiss they shared flashing in her mind. Heat crept up her neck, and she quickly looked away, clearing her throat.

“You are full of surprises,” she said, forcing a casual tone as she focused on a spot on the wall.

Liam’s lips curved into a knowing smirk. He pushed off the counter and stepped closer, the space between them shrinking. His proximity was enough to make her pulse quicken. Izzy tried not to react, but her body betrayed her as her breath hitched.

“Say it again,” he said, his voice low.