His Private Chef (by Amycee) novel Chapter 13

I woke

up

with the kind of headache that felt like karma punching me square in the skull.

Ugh. Never drinking again. Ever.

The room was spinning just a little, my mouth was dry, and my stomach churned in protest. I pulled the covers over my face and groaned, as if hiding could undo the mess of the night before.

What even happened last night?

How did I even get home?

I tried to think, but the memories came in tangled knots, impossible to unravel.

Music. Laughter. Sophia. Jay. Dancing.

And then…

Oh no. No, no, no.

The kiss.

That stupid, heart–thudding, completely inappropriate kiss.

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Chapter 13

Oh God. I kissed Liam Black.

I kissed my boss.

:

What was I thinking? I groaned, rolling onto my side. Please let that be a dream. Or a hallucination. Or some kind of blackout fantasy.

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I buried my face into the pillow, wishing it could smother the memory from existence. Maybe the alcohol messed with my brain. Maybe it didn’t happen at all. Maybe I imagined the whole thing.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand, jolting me out of the storm in my head.

I reached for it, still tangled in the sheets. An unknown number lit

up

the screen.

Unknown Number:

Hey sleepyhead! It’s Sophia.

Jay and I dropped you off last night.

I saw that kiss!

We’ll gist properly when I’m back in two days.

Behave until then. Or don’t.

I groaned again, this time louder.

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Chapter 13

So it did happen.

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That text just made it real. Sophia saw it. She witnessed it. And worse, she was enjoying this way too much.

I tossed the phone across the bed and flopped onto my back. My heart was still beating too fast, my face on fire.

Great. Just great.

I sank deeper into the mattress, eyes shut, vowing not to rise again for at least ten years.

When I finally opened my eyes again, it was just shy of 1 PM.

I dragged myself out of bed, the hangover slowly giving way to exhaustion. I spent the afternoon doing what I call “productive laziness.” Cleaned. Did laundry. Blasted music to drown my thoughts.

Basically, anything to avoid thinking about Liam Black and the fact that my lips had touched

his.

By evening, I was in the kitchen, prepping dinner and pretending like my world wasn’t on the verge of exploding.

And then it hit me.

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Chapter 13

Tomorrow.

:

Tomorrow I was supposed to go to his house and cook.

My stomach turned.

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For the first time in my life, I didn’t want to cook. I didn’t want to see him. I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t even want to think about him.

But I couldn’t just not go. This was work. My job. I had to suck it up and show up.

But I could stall for a bit.

Yeah. I’d go a little later in the morning. He usually wasn’t around by then. If I timed it right, I could slip in, do what I needed to do, and leave without ever bumping into him.

No awkward eye contact.

No “about last night” conversation.

Just food and silence.

That was the plan.

Avoid Liam Black at all costs.

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Chapter 13

The morning came too quickly.

The inevitable day.

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I got ready slower than ever, dragging out every step like it might somehow change the fact that I had to face him again. Showering, dressing, fixing my hair. Anything to buy a little more time.

But time didn’t stop just because I wanted it to.

Eventually, I forced myself out the door.

Still, I wasn’t ready. So I made a detour.

I stopped by the little coffee shop down the street. The one with mismatched chairs and the best cinnamon rolls in the city. My official excuse? I needed caffeine to kick start my day.

The real reason?

Delay. Pure, calculated delay.

The longer I stayed out, the slimmer the chance of running into him.

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Chapter 13

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I ordered my coffee, found a quiet corner table, and pulled out that novel I’d been trying to finish for the past three months. A romance, ironically. One of those slow burns that reminded me a little too much of my current reality.

I read a few pages, sipping slowly. The coffee was good. Too good. I considered ordering a second cup.

Then the sky shifted.

The wind picked up. The clouds turned that heavy gray that always meant trouble. A storm was coming.

Ugh.

I packed up my things and made my way to Liam’s house before the sky cracked open. The last thing I needed was to show up soaked and dripping all over his perfectly polished floors.

To my relief, the driveway was empty.

He wasn’t home.

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