By the time Mio padded into the kitchen, the smell of garlic and butter was already drifting through the air. She paused at the doorway, blinking at the sight of Claude Lockheart—CEO, troublemaker, and perpetual menace—wearing an apron over his crisp shirt, sleeves rolled up as he stirred pasta on the stove.
"You're seriously doing this?" she asked flatly, folding her arms.
Claude turned his head, his smirk practically glowing. "Good morning to you too, Mrs. Lockheart. Pasta and sandwiches, just as requested by her majesty last night."
"I didn't request. I just said I wanted it…" Mio muttered, stepping closer despite herself.
"Same thing," Claude replied smoothly, lifting the pan to toss the pasta with practiced flair. "Your wish, my command."
Her cheeks heated. "You're insufferable."
He set the pan down and leaned toward her, his voice dropping low and teasing. "And yet you still look at me like you want to kiss me."
