Raelynn's thoughts scattered when she heard footsteps, followed by a plate being placed in front of her. She blinked, her mouth slightly ajar as she stared down at the burrito—a perfectly wrapped and golden-brown masterpiece. She looked up slowly, eting Elion's gaze, who stood there with an almost smug grin tugging at his lips.
"Eat up," he ordered. "And don't do anything funny again after this."
Raelynn quickly snapped her mouth shut and straightened in her seat, trying to compose herself. He can cook? The idea of Elion, with his sharp suits and commanding presence, standing in a kitchen preparing food was beyond her imagination. He hadn't looked flustered or out of place; there was no sign of hesitation, no evidence of struggle. He had looked like he belonged there.
Suppressing her curiosity, Raelynn reached for the burrito, lifting it carefully. The warmth spread through her fingers, and the sll of spices and lted cheese made her stomach rumble. She took a bite, and the explosion of flavors made her moan in delight, her eyes widening.
"This is delicious!" she exclaid, unable to hide her pleasure. She devoured the first burrito and moved on to the second with equal enthusiasm, barely pausing to breathe. Before she realized it, the plate was empty, and she reached for the glass of water that had appeared beside her.
Raelynn blinked as she put the glass down. She hadn't even noticed when Elion had set it there. Wiping her mouth with a napkin, she looked up at him, still standing near the kitchen counter, his arms crossed and an amused expression on his face.
"You cook... really well," she said with genuine admiration.
He gave a casual shrug. "Not important."
Raelynn frowned. "Of course it matters! It's not fair. You have everything—looks, skills, wealth. Why does God favor you so much?" Her arms shot up dramatically, pretending to be annoyed but clearly teasing.
Elion's lips curled into a smirk as he leaned over slightly, his piercing gaze locking onto hers. "Did you just say I'm perfect, Raelynn?"
Her cheeks flushed, and she quickly looked away. "No, I didn't! Don't twist my words!" she protested, her voice high-pitched in defense. But inside, her thoughts betrayed her. He's insufferable. Perfectly insufferable.
She stole a glance at him, catching the hint of a smile, and the confidence in his stance. Is there anything he can't do? she wondered. I thought he was just a business tycoon, soone who secures deals and builds empires. But cooking? Really?
Trying to shake off her thoughts, she blurted out, "I guess I'm lucky to have tasted sothing cooked by Elion Vaelorian himself."
Elion tilted his head slightly, a spark of humor dancing in his eyes. "You're the only one."
Her brows furrowed. "Huh?"
"I've never cooked for anyone else," he admitted, his voice soft but sincere.
Her heart skipped a beat, and warmth spread across her cheeks. She fumbled to mask her embarrassnt, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Well, I..." she stumbled over her words, quickly trying to regain her composure. "I'm just surprised that you're so good with your hands."
The mont the words left her mouth, her eyes widened in horror. Why did I say that? Her face heating up even more. The mont stretched, and she wished he'd just drop it.
But, of course, he didn't.
Elion's smirk deepened as he stepped closer, one hand casually slipping into his pocket while the other rested on the back of her chair.
Raelynn's breath hitched as he leaned down, their faces re inches apart. His gaze locked onto hers, so intense it made her heart pound.
"You'd be surprised to know," he said softly, "what else I can do with my hands."
Raelynn's chest tightened, her heartbeat erratic as she gulped nervously. She tried to look away, but his gaze held her captive. She gripped the chair's edge, bracing herself for what was to co.
She couldn't look away from his gaze, his smirk both amused and shadowed by sothing darker. "I—" she started to say, but the approaching steps cut her off.
A maid appeared at the doorway, her head bowed respectfully. "Apologies for the intrusion, Mr. Vaelorian," she said nervously, glancing between them.
Raelynn practically snapped her head away, her face heating as she cleared her throat with unnecessary gusto. She fidgeted, brushing nonexistent dust off her skirt as if it were the most important task in the world. Anything to avoid the maid's gaze—and Elion's, for that matter.
"Perfect timing," she said, her tone a touch too bright, though her voice wavered slightly. "We were just, uh, about to—well, nothing important."
Grateful didn't even begin to cover how she felt about the maid's interruption. If she'd stared at Elion a second longer, she'd either combust into a blushing ss or burst into tears from the sheer tension. Neither option sounded appealing.
Elion straightened up, but didn't move far. "What is it?" he asked, his gaze lingered on Raelynn for a second longer than necessary.
"There's a guest for you, sir," the maid replied hesitantly. "He said his na is Mr. Simmons."
The air in the room shifted instantly. Raelynn swore she saw a flicker of sothing cold in Elion's expression—his eyes, once warm and teasing, turned icy in a heartbeat. His jaw clenched, and the calm he had carried monts ago vanished entirely.
"Mr. Simmons," he repeated, his flat tone making Raelynn shiver.
"Yes, sir," the maid confird, looking uneasy.
Elion gave a brief nod. "I'll take care of it."
Raelynn watched Elion carefully, noting the tension in his shoulders and the hard line of his jaw. Her earlier thoughts about his perfection faded as she saw this side of him. Who is Mr. Simmons? she wondered. And why does the ntion of his na affect Elion so much?
As Elion turned to leave the kitchen, he paused, glancing over his shoulder. His gaze softened ever so slightly as it t hers. "Go get so rest, all right?" he said, his tone warr than before.
Raelynn nodded, though she couldn't shake the unease settling in her chest. Sothing told her that this Mr. Simmons wasn't just a random guest.
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