RING!
The sharp sound of his phone cuts through the air, and the moment shatters. Benedict pulls back, glancing at the screen, and I see a flicker of frustration in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice laced with regret. “I have to take this. But I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”
I force a smile, even though a part of me aches at the loss of his warmth. “Sure. Tomorrow.”
He gives me one last, lingering look before stepping away, the light from his phone casting a shadow across his face.
And as I watch him go, I can’t help but wonder...if maybe, just maybe, this arrangement isn’t as simple as we both thought.
The following morning, the kitchen is quiet as I step inside.
Benedict stands by the counter, the morning light catching on his perfectly pressed suit. He looks like every bit the billionaire he is, confident and composed, as he pours a cup of coffee.