Page 82 of Discretion at Its Finest

Nothing had since he came back.

If he hadn’t come back, this would still be manageable. The company, Genevieve, Cheryl, the baby…

I let out a slow breath, something close to relief settling in me for the first time all day. He didn’t have control of everything… not yet at least. But once I figured out how to get rid of Reid Kaufman, everything would make sense again.

Chapter thirty-one

Genevieve

The kitchen lights were dimmed low, casting a soft glow against the countertops. The rain had just started outside, tapping gently against the windows in the way only a gloomy New York evening could.

I stood barefoot on the cool tile, my slippers long forgotten as I’d gotten comfortable, the silk of my slip brushing my thighs, hair still damp from the shower. A pot simmered on the stove, the smell of rosemary and garlic clinging to the air.

I stirred the pasta slowly, trying not to think of California, or to admit how much I enjoyed the sun, Reid’s penthouse, the little moments that had us almost resembling a family… and the sex. The amazing, mind-blowing, life-altering sex that had me in my mind about it constantly.

The last time I’d stood in this kitchen, late into the night, daydreaming, thinking, like this, he showed up, claimed me in ways I’d only had in memory ever since he’d left. The thought of that night had my skin going hot, my face flushing as I stirred… or maybe it was the boiling water.

Upstairs, I could hear the water running, followed by Cara’s light laugh and Eugene’s squeals. Bath time, she’d told him after I’d finished my own relaxing shower. Just a quick rinse before she headed out. And I’d nodded, surprised at how… normal this had become. Letting her help, letting someone else take care of him for once. All of a sudden, it didn’t feel like losing him anymore.

I turned at the sound of the front door opening. Raymond was still at the hospital with Jamie and I’d gotten so used to waiting up for Gregory that I knew it wasn’t him.

His footsteps moved through the hallway. A moment later, Reid appeared in the doorway, jacket slung over one shoulder, collar loosened, top buttons undone. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing the strong, veined forearms that still made my breath hitch in spite of everything.

His eyes landed on me: all domestic with damp hair, bare legs, cooking in a quiet kitchen.

Something flickered across his face.

“Making dinner?” he asked.

I gave a small shrug. “Thought I’d get started now while I had the time,” I said softly without turning away from the stove.

He stepped closer. “Cara upstairs?”

“Mmm.” I nodded. “Giving Eugene a quick bath before heading out.”

He leaned against the counter, watching me. “You sure she isn’t taking away from your quality mother and son bonding time?” I could hear the mischievous teasing in his tone.

I rolled my eyes at his antics. “It’s been a long few days, okay?” I admitted, then shrugged. “She’s… good with him.”

“I told you. She knows his routines.” He didn’t gloat, just stated it simply like he did on the plane in that same way that reassured my place in my son’s life.

I finally glanced at him. “Not better than I do,” I whispered, the same words he told me, and he only hummed, pushing off the counter before disappearing behind me. I turned back to the stove.

“You know,” he said eventually, “my mind is still stuck on the last time we were in this kitchen…” He stepped closer. “You were braced against that counter—”

“Don’t,” I warned, but it came out more breathless than I’d intended. His hands ended up resting on my hips, his frame towering over me as he watched me from his height.

“Am I not allowed to reminisce the memory of you on my tongue,mon amour?“ His French hit my ears in a way that made my knees buckle almost instantly.

I cursed in my mind, my face flushing even more.

I swallowed, forcing my hands to keep moving. The spatula trembled slightly as I stirred the chicken simmering in the pan.“You’re shameless,”I murmured, and his hands only wrapped around my waist, pulling me flush against him. I couldn’t help but melt against his chest, sighing in relief almost, like having him near me could let me breathe again.

“Can you blame me? I’ve waited a long time,”he said, low in my ear,“to remember out loud.”

At his words I froze. The steam from the pan curled up into my face, but it wasn’t the heat that made my eyes sting. My mind flickered to older memories with Gregory.

He didn’t touch me like this. He didn’t lean in close, press his chest to my back like he needed to memorize the shape of me or whisper sweet nothings in my ear like they meant something, likeImeant something.