The nickna *Red* had originally been given to her by her mother. Evie had no idea how Ezra knew that—it had to be a coincidence.
He had just ruffled her red hair playfully, but the gesture jolted a mory. It reminded her of the way her mother used to stroke her hair and fondly call her *Red*. The nostalgia hit hard. She missed her mom deeply. If only she weren’t so far away... Evie longed to be in her arms again, to feel her fingers in her hair, hear her call her *Red*, and tell her how much she loved her hair—how perfectly it suited her.
Ezra’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.
"I got pan-seared salmon with dill sauce, lamb with rosemary, duck breast with cherry compote..." he listed.
Evie blinked up at him from where he stood in the kitchen, shaking off the mory so she could focus.
"And chocolate soufflé for dessert," Ezra added.
"What do you want?" he asked, tilting his head slightly, a teasing smirk on his face.
Evie rested her cheek in her palm.
"I’m starving, Monsieur. I wouldn’t mind *all*," she replied.
"Right away, Mademoiselle," he responded with the sa humor, beginning to plate the food while she watched from the dining table. Her eyes followed him—every movent, every turn.
He was in nothing but casual pants and a loose T-shirt, his hair falling carelessly across his face. She never would’ve imagined seeing him like this. No, she never thought *anything* between them would change.
They were bound by a contract. A strict one. No emotional involvent, no romantic entanglents. And yet, here they were—rules shattered. Ezra had said he *wanted* her.
So did that invalidate the contract?
Absolutely.
They’d both failed to uphold it.
What now?
The month was ending, and a new one was about to begin. Three more months to go.
She didn’t know what would happen by then.
But she reminded herself—she wasn’t the only one caught in this. So for now, she’d breathe. She’d wait. And when the ti ca, she’d face it.
Ezra walked into the dining area with their al, carefully placing each dish on the table. Everything was neatly and perfectly served—just like sothing straight out of a fine restaurant.
"Bon appétit," he said with a small grin.
Evie rolled her eyes, barely hiding her amusent. *What was with the ceremony?* Wasn’t this supposed to be a regular dinner?
He sat beside her, and they began eating. To her surprise, Ezra was an excellent cook. It amazed her that he could prepare sothing this delicious yet still fail at making pancakes. Then again, he probably didn’t like pancakes enough to learn how to make them properly.
"You must really like lambs," Ezra said, glancing at her as she chewed another bite.
"They’re delicious. You can’t bla ," she muttered, continuing to devour her al. Her appetite was insane tonight. She hadn’t eaten much earlier—not at lunch, and barely anything for breakfast except for the toast Ezra had made. The event had left her too nervous to eat, but thankfully, everything had gone well.
After a mont of silence, Ezra asked, "What other things do you like?"
Evie raised a brow. "Why?" she asked. "Planning to start doing them so I’ll fall for you?"
Ezra’s lips curved into a smirk. "You’re smart," he said, then added more softly, "But it’s not just about making you fall. I want to know the things you like... so I can know *you*. I don’t know if that makes sense."
It made *perfect* sense. Evie’s grip on her fork tightened. Ezra didn’t even need to try—he flirted without lifting a finger, and it worked too well. She cleared her throat lightly. He imdiately handed her a glass of water. She took a slow sip while he watched, his eyes lingering on the movent of her throat. She inhaled sharply.
"We’ll talk about that so other ti. You were about to kill ," she said, her brows drawn in mock disapproval.
"Kill you with what?" Ezra chuckled. "I barely said anything."
That smirk. Evie wanted to smack it off his face. He knew exactly what he was doing—and he was enjoying every second of watching her unravel. She wouldn’t let him win easily. If he wanted her, he’d have to prove he was worth it. She was done giving her heart away easily.
"I’ll tell you so other ti," she said at last.
Ezra’s smirk lingered. "Trying to play tough, huh?" he asked, popping a piece of salmon into his mouth.
"That’s okay. I get it. I’ll chase you for as long as it takes."
Then he winked.
Her face flushed with embarrassnt. Oh, could he just stop doing this? And could she stop being affected by the smallest things? Why was she so drawn to Ezra?
Well, she knew why.
He was ridiculously attractive—elegant, effortlessly flirtatious. His smoldering gaze made her feel hot all over. His smirk curled her stomach in ways she couldn’t explain, and that subtle raise of his brow? It did things to her she couldn’t resist. Ezra was the kind of man no one could ignore, and she hated how much power he had over her without even trying.
After dinner, Evie found herself in his bed, completely exhausted from the day.
"Cuddle?" Ezra asked, sliding in beside her.
"You don’t have to," she replied, turning away, refusing to give in so easily. She pulled the duvet over herself and flopped to her side of the bed.
But then she felt it—his arm sliding around her waist, his chest pressing against her back, his warmth cocooning her. He offered his hand for her to rest on. She hesitated... then accepted it. When he wasn’t looking, a quiet smile tugged at her lips.
"Night night," Ezra murmured, his breath warm against her neck as he closed his eyes.
She stared into the darkness, still wrapped in his arms, her mind racing.
*If he really wanted her,*
He’d have to prove it—not with grand gestures, but with consistency.
He’d have to show her that she could trust him.
So, she smiled to herself.
She’d be watching.
And no—she wouldn’t make it easy.
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