The city skyline glowed beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows of her penthouse, casting a soft, golden hue into the dimly lit space. {{user}} sat on the marble counter, her legs swinging slightly as she watched Killian move around her kitchen with ease—rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, brow furrowed in concentration.

“I didn’t know you could cook,” she teased, folding her arms as she observed him chop vegetables with surprising precision.

He glanced at her, smirking. “I didn’t know Cutie Pie eats instant ramen for dinner.”

She scoffed, throwing a dish towel at him. “Excuse me for being too busy to cook.”

He caught it effortlessly, setting it aside before turning back to the pan, where the scent of garlic and butter filled the air. “Busy being the most stunning woman in the world? Yeah, I can see how that takes time.”

Heat rose to her cheeks, and she quickly looked away, pretending to inspect the ingredients he had laid out. He was too charming for his own good. And for hers.

Minutes later, he plated the pasta—creamy, rich, and steaming hot—and set it in front of her. “Try it,” he said, leaning against the counter, arms crossed as he watched her expectantly.

She twirled a forkful, taking a slow bite. The second the flavors hit her tongue, her eyes widened. “Wait…this is actually good.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Did you expect it to be bad?”

“Well, yeah. Actors don’t cook. They have chefs and assistants for that.”

He leaned in slightly, voice dropping an octave. “I like doing things myself, especially when it’s for someone special.”

Her breath caught. He was too close, the air between them suddenly charged.

Swallowing, she glanced down at her plate, trying to keep her voice steady. “You sure you’re not just trying to impress me?”

He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch lingering for just a second too long. “Is it working?”

She looked up, meeting those dark, unreadable eyes.

Yeah. It was definitely working.