The Billionaire’s Bun In Her Oven - Ellie Rowe Page 0,56

conversation you just witnessed? The so-called “I can’t cook” moment? That wasn’t with Nadia. That was with the execs. They asked him to spice it up a bit. Said the viewers missed all the cursing and yelling and calling people stupid through delightful food metaphors.”

“But he wouldn’t do it?” I ask, the realization dawning on me.

“Not to his favorite, badass, show stopping queen of the kitchen,” he smiles and grabs my hand. I can’t believe it. This is too fucking much. Not only did they fabricate his insult toward me, but the show’s also making me look like a loser.

“It doesn’t make any sense!” I say angrily, “It’s his fucking show, why go after him?” Paulie smiles and purses his lips.

“Ooohh, I love it when you stand by your man.”

“I’m not —” I start, but then I realize he’s right. I’m getting fired up for Stephen, about Stephen. Oh God, he’s probably alone. I’ve got to do something.

“Paulie… I’ve got to —”

“Yes, you do, my sweet. But finish that, it’s the most expensive Manhattan next to the actual island.” I nod and finish my drink. “Good luck.”

“I owe you,” I say, giving him a squeeze.

“I know,” he smiles and pats my butt. “Now fly, my dove!”

I race out the door and head home. I’ve got to regroup, call Stephen from there and just apologize, make sure he’s okay.

I fast walk the next few blocks, rehearsing what I’ll say and how I’ll say it. Rushing to my street, I leap up the steps when I run smack into someone waiting outside.

“Oh God, I’m sorry —” I freeze, staring wide-eyed at the man before me. Gorgeous black hair, bright blue eyes and a powerful frame my arm hurts from running into him.

“Stephen?”

Forty-Two

Stephen

I spend five minutes standing outside Cynthia’s building buzzing her apartment. For the first two, I relentlessly thumb the button. Then I pause for two minutes, hoping someone will come through the security doors, and I can sneak in just before it closes. I spend the last minute trying the buzzer a few more times.

Before coming over, I’d called her cell. A bunch.

Finally, I couldn’t take waiting for her to call back – assuming she even would – so I rushed over here. Because an idea – a good, foolproof idea this time – was overflowing in my brain and I needed to share it with her.

Unfortunately, she’s either not home or she’s ignoring my buzzing just like my calls. I finally give up. Shoulders slumped, I turn away from her building…

… and get rammed in the shoulder by a barreling figure.

“Stephen!”

Cynthia’s bathed in the glow of a streetlamp. She looks just as beautiful as she did when I first glimpsed her in Origin’s kitchen.

We stand on the sidewalk, both with hands in our pockets. It’s awkward, and a little tense. Other than a few exchanges while filming, it seems like forever since we actually talked. I desperately want to end the discomfort by sweeping her into my arms and kissing her. I don’t imagine she’ll be very game for that though. So, we continue to stand there for another long moment.

Thankfully, she breaks the silence. “I guess you were coming to talk to me?”

“Yeah,” I say. There was a whole speech I’d planned for her, but it’s completely left my brain. Instead of the eloquent appeal I’d composed, I gesture vaguely toward her building and say, “you weren’t home.”

She suppresses a little laugh at my expense. “No… I was out.”

I shake my head and just dive in. “Listen, I’m sorry about what happened in the episode…”

“It’s OK –”

“It was all some sort of misunderstanding –”

“I know –”

“I tried to make it right –”

“I believe you –”

“But they fucking went behind my back and –”

“I know. I believe you.”

“And so, I…” I suddenly hear what she said and cease my protestations of innocence. I blink a few times, processing her words. Then I say, “Wait, what?”

She takes a step closer to me. “I believe you. Paulie talked to Chase. Well, I guess they’re more than talking. Chase told Paulie what you tried to do for me.”

“Chase? That slippery little… I can’t believe he –”

“Will you shut up?” she says stridently. “At least one person in this whole mess is finally being up front and honest with somebody else.”

I stare at my shoes, embarrassed. “You’re right.”

“It’s not just you. It’s me, as well.”

When I lift my eyes again, she has a wry smile on her face, the same smile she had the