Gie had expected a lot of things when she stepped back into Alexander Millers's penthouse.
A night of choosing suits? Sure.
A test of her self-control? Absolutely.
But this?
This she hadn't expected.
Because Alexander Millers—the billionaire, the untouchable, the man who had assistants and servers for every single aspect of his life—
Was cooking.
She stared, completely frozen, as he moved around the sleek, modern kitchen with effortless ease.
The dark granite countertops were spotless, the space designed for luxury rather than practicality, but he looked like he belonged there.
His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, his expensive watch set aside on the counter, his fingers working with precise, practiced movements as he plated something beautiful and undeniably delicious.
Gie's brain short-circuited.
"You—cook?"
Alexander glanced at her, amused.
"I do," he said simply.
Her mouth opened—then closed.
Because that didn't make sense.
He was a man who didn't need to lift a finger.
He had power, money, status.
Men like him didn't cook their own food.
Everything about his life screamed carefully managed, meticulously curated.
So why—
"You're staring."
Her cheeks flushed instantly.
"I—I'm just surprised, that's all." She crossed her arms. "I thought everything in your life was handled by other people."
He gave a slow, knowing smirk, then reached for the dish he had just plated—a perfectly seared steak with a side of buttered vegetables and creamy mashed potatoes—and slid it toward her.
"Sit," he said smoothly, nodding toward the dining area.
Gie hesitated.
But the scent of the food—rich, mouthwatering, decadent—was enough to make her obey without another word.
She took a seat, still slightly dazed, as he placed a plate in front of her and sat across from her.
The first bite?
Heaven.
Her eyes fluttered shut, a soft moan escaping her before she could stop it.
"Oh my God."
A small chuckle. "I'll take that as a compliment."
Gie's eyes snapped open, her face immediately heating when she realized what she had just done.
She had just moaned over his food.
Loudly.
And the look he was giving her?
Like he was very aware of the sound she had made?
Like he was already filing it away somewhere dangerous?
She swallowed hard, staring aggressively at her plate.
"So, um—" she cleared her throat, "—you just… do this for fun?"
Alexander took a slow sip of his wine, his gaze never leaving hers.
"I enjoy it," he said simply. "It's one of the few things in my life that's purely for me."
Gie frowned slightly.
Something about the way he said it—so casual, yet layered with meaning—
It made her wonder.
What else did he do just for himself?
What else did he keep hidden from the world?
Before she could ask, he leaned back in his chair, shifting the conversation effortlessly.
"I have an event next week," he said.
She blinked. "Oh?"
"A gala," he elaborated, tapping his fingers against his wine glass. "It's a formal affair, and I need to make an appearance."
Gie's brows furrowed. "And you need help with…?"
A smirk. "What I should wear."
She exhaled sharply, relieved to finally be on familiar ground.
"That, I can do."
After dinner, he led her back to his walk-in wardrobe, and just like before—she felt like she was molding him with her hands.
She pulled fabric between her fingers, her mind already painting an image of how he should look that night.
"I want something different this time," she murmured, half to herself, half to him.
She reached for a deep charcoal gray suit, subtly lined with silver accents—a shade that would bring out the cool steel in his eyes.
A black dress shirt, perfectly tailored to his frame, buttoned just enough to keep things dangerously polished.
A custom tie pin—one of hers, of course, because her work belonged on him.
And finally—
"You should wear the ring," she said, not looking at him as she laid the pieces out.
She felt his gaze on her, sharp and unreadable.
"The one you designed for me?"
"Yes," she murmured. "It fits the look. Trust me."
Silence.
Then—
"Alright," he said, voice smooth, controlled. "I trust you."
She swallowed hard.
Because those words—from him—
They made something dangerous bloom inside her.
She wasn't just choosing an outfit.
She was shaping how the world would see him.
And the way he let her do it?
Like he was giving her control over something no one else had?
That was addictive.
And terrifying.
And she had no idea what she was getting herself into.