Page 45 of Silver Sinner

His threat was clear. No other men. No dating.

But… I told him Pierce was a friend, and no one knows what's going on between us. Pierce certainly doesn't strike me as the kind of man to kiss and tell. It's terribly selfish of me, but the thought of taking Pierce up on his offer is overwhelmingly exciting. There are no cops around to tell on me, and given that over the past seven years, Trik never came around when I had a handful of dates when Madeline was still young… I should be safe.

I want to be safe.

It's selfish, but I've missed Pierce.

"Well?" The silence stretches between us for too long as my mind races, and Pierce's smile falters slightly. "Is this a bad time?"

His words shake me out of my thoughts, and I quickly close the door, detach the chain, and pull it open wide. "Come in! I'm so sorry, my mind is a bit all over the place because Maddie is at a sleepover and after what happened, being away from her is a little difficult."

"I understand." Pierce smiles warmly. "Let me cook dinner for you. I'm actually a dab hand at the stove and it might be an excellent distraction for you."

"I'm counting on it." I take one of the bags from his arms and kick the door closed, quickly latching it once more, then I head to the kitchen. When Pierce joins me, he has his phone in one hand and seems to be sending a text message to someone. Once he's satisfied, he swipes to his contacts and offers me his phone.

"Would you do me the honor of giving me your number?"

I can barely contain the shy little laugh that bubbles up as I take the device. "That might be the sweetest way someone has ever asked for my number.” I quickly type my digits in. He takes it back and smiles.

"Let me text you so that you have mine."

On cue, my phone buzzes in my pocket, and the text comes through, a message consisting of just three purple hearts. "Cute."

"I can be trendy," Pierce teases as he sets the second bag down onto the counter. "Could you show me where you keep your cooking utensils?"

Twenty minutes later, all thoughts of Trik and his empty threats have melted from my mind. The kitchen floods with the aroma of spice and sweetness colliding while a pan bubbles with a rich, dark sauce and Pierce expertly browns some chicken in another pan. He's rolled up his shirt sleeves, removed his tie, and stands there with a calm smile while the muscles on his forearms bulge with every toss of the chicken. I stand next to him, rapidly dicing up an array of veggies that he adds to the sauce with sprinkles of powders and seasonings I can't name, but all of them smell amazing.

"Where did you learn to cook?"

Pierce glances at me with a smile. The heat in the kitchen warms his cheeks to a soft pink and there's a boyish charm to the glint in his eyes. "My father. My mother was a force to be reckoned with, but nothing could soften her faster than a home-cooked meal. My father took it upon himself to teach my brother and I the art of cuisine so that we too could soften the women in our lives."

"You have a brother?"

Pierce nods. "A younger brother. Adrian."

"Is he as dashing as you?" I gently nudge against him with a teasing smile.

"He likes to think so," Pierce snorts softly. "I disagree. Such is it with siblings. Do you have any?"

I shake my head. "No. My parents hated having me, I can't imagine how they would have reacted to another."

Pierce quickly tosses the chicken one more time and adds it to the bubbling saucepan. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"I'm not." A touch of bitterness leaks into my tone. "I wouldn't even call them parents if I could think of anything else, but calling them assholes opens up too many questions."

"I understand. Parents is an endearing term, but only if they deserve it. Like you and Madeline. It's so warming to see how you dote on her."

Laughing softly, I sidestep as he reaches for the veggies I've neatly chopped and adds them to the pan. "It's hard not to. She's very dote-able."

"Indeed. You should be proud. I haven't known her long, but she left quite a darling impression."

"Just don't tell her that. She's already the star of her class in school and I don't need her growing up with a little ego."

We share laughter and a few teasing jokes about our own experiences at school, and soon the food is on a low simmer while we quickly wash up the dishes. After insisting that he lets me help, I wash and Pierce dries. That lasts all of two minutes because soon he's standing right behind me, pressed up against my back with his cheek resting against my head and his arms aligned with mine as we both wash the dishes.

It's enough to make my legs weak.

"I came here to take care of you," Pierce murmurs.