His Private Chef (by Amycee) novel Chapter 28

apter 28

After Liam left for work that morning, Jay followed shortly after, muttering something about hangovers and early meetings not being best friends. Just like that, it was the ladies left alone in the house.

I couldn’t sit still, not with Liam’s final words echoing in my head.

“Don’t leave. I want to talk to you when I get back.”

Talk about what, exactly?

My brain had been running a mental highlight reel on repeat since last night. From the kiss I shamelessly initiated (kill me now), to the way he touched my waist, to the silence in his gaze that said more than words ever could. It was driving me insane.

I needed a distraction. A fun one.

“Sophia,” I said, walking into the living room where she was curled up with her phone, “how about I teach you how to cook something simple? Pancakes, pasta, grilled steak?”

She looked up like I’d just spoken another language. “You mean, me? In the kitchen? Touching actual ingredients? Girl, I burn water.”

I raised a brow. “That’s not even scientifically possible.”

“With me? Anything is possible,” she said, grinning. “You’ve been warned.”

Despite her protests, she agreed. And twenty minutes later, I regretted everything.

Sophia was a beautiful disaster in the kitchen. She cracked an egg directly into a cold pan.

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She used salt instead of sugar. And when the pancake batter started to bubble, she screamed

like it was alive.

“This is so much fun!” she squealed, flapping her flour–covered hands.

I was laughing so hard I had to sit on the floor, tears rolling down my cheeks.

“You’re the worst student ever.”

“I told you!” she pouted, sticking her tongue out at me.

We made a complete mess, flour on her silk robe, egg yolk streaking my ponytail. But somehow, miraculously, we ended up with a few edible pancakes. Slightly burnt, sure, but they held their shape. We high–fived with sticky fingers and collapsed into kitchen chairs, breathing like we just ran a marathon.

“It actually tastes… okay,” Sophia said between chews.

“It’s edible. Let’s not jinx it.‘

”

We cleaned the kitchen together, scrubbing every surface until it looked just like before, only now it held the memory of laughter and the chaos we created.

After rinsing off the last of the batter from the countertops, Sophia yawned and stretched. “That was something. We deserve a reward. Pool time?”

“Yes, please.”

She dragged me to her room and we spent the next thirty minutes agonizing over what bikini to wear. You’d think we were heading to a luxury beach resort, not Liam’s backyard pool. She laid out at least seven options across her bed like a fashion show runway

Sophia finally settled on a firetruck red bikini with gold rings at the sides, and she picked a

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royal blue one–piece for me. Simple, sleek, and somehow still made me feel exposed.

Sunlight spilled across the pool deck, bathing everything in a soft, golden glow. The water sparkled like liquid crystal. I slipped into a lounger, towel around my waist, sunglasses perched on my nose, hair still damp from the quick shower I’d taken.

Sophia floated lazily in the pool, her arms stretched like a starfish. She paddled to the edge and rested her chin on her arms. “So,” she said, her voice casual but sharp with curiosity, “what do you think Liam wants to talk about?”

I let out a long breath. “Honestly? No clue. Maybe he wants to talk about us kissing. Or about me dancing with Mason. Or maybe I breathed too close to his ego and now he’s offended.”

She laughed, eyes twinkling. “He likes you, Em. He’s just scared. That boy’s got walls taller than most buildings in LA.”

“Scared of what? I haven’t done anything.”

“Exactly,” she said, pulling herself out of the pool. Water glistened on her tanned skin as she grabbed a towel. “You’re not trying to impress him. You’re not after his money or fame. You see him. And trust me, Liam hasn’t had much of that. People usually want something.”

I sat up straighter. “He confuses me. Hot and cold. Push and pull. It messes with my head.”

“Then don’t make it easy for him,” Sophia said, squeezing the water from her hair. “Make him earn it. Make him show up. If he wants you, really wants you, he’ll step up. That’s how you’ll know it’s real.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“It’s not. But it’s worth it. You’re worth it.”

I didn’t answer. Because deep down, I wasn’t sure if I believed that yet.

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Eventually, the warmth and the gentle breeze lulled me into a nap. I wasn’t sure how long I slept, but it couldn’t have been too long before I felt a hand gently tap my shoulder.

“Emily.”

My eyes fluttered open.

Liam.

He was standing above me, his jacket gone, shirt sleeves rolled up, tie hanging loose. His hair looked like he’d run his fingers through it a hundred times. His expression was

unreadable.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting,” he said quietly, his voice low and rough. “Work dragged longer than I planned.”

I sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes. “It’s okay. I taught Sophia how not to destroy pancakes.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips, but he wasn’t really looking at my face. His eyes dropped briefly, involuntarily.

To my bikini.

To my legs.

To places his gaze had no business lingering

He muttered something under his breath. A curse, maybe.

“Liam?”

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