Assistant to the Billionaire ✔

○ THIRTY- TWO ○

○ THIRTY- TWO ○

I took a sip of my coffee, moving towards the fridge and opening the door. I wanted to make something nice for Erik.

He was coming home from work soon and after a hard day at work, I thought he might deserve it. Plus, he'd been super good to me all week by spoiling me with flowers and chocolate.

Glancing at the ingredients, I decided a nice butter chicken would be good and I started prepping straight away.

I was halfway cooking it when the man himself opened the front door and closed it behind him. "Something smells so fricking good," he said, walking around the corner to the kitchen.

I had a glass of wine on the bench, surrounded by cut vegetables and a sizzling pan on the stove. I picked it up and took a sip. "Welcome home," I said as he took of his jacket.

"I could definitely get used to this everyday, coming home from work to see you in the kitchen," he teased.

"Not your slave," I pointed out.

He chuckled. "I know, baby, I wouldn't ask you to do anything, you know that," he said, reaching me.

He leaned down and pressed a peck on my cheek. Erik slid past me to the fridge. "So what's cooking?" He asked, pouring himself a drink.

"Butter chicken, thought we might try something new," I replied, giving it a stir.

Out of the corner of my eye, he leaned on the bench opposite me. "Need any help?" He asked.

I shook my head. "How was work?" I asked, changing the subject.

Erik sighed. "It's dreadfully boring without you there and my new assistant still can't make a good coffee," he complained.

I rolled my eyes. "How are you today?" He asked carefully.

I stared down into the cooking chicken. "I feel a lot better, I've had time to think about everything and I'm just thanking every moment that it hadn't gone further than it did," I replied.

"Well, I'm happy to hear that,"

Turning to face him, I placed my wineglass down on the bench.

"Thank you for being so patient with me," I said, slowly.

"The things I do for love," he said before watching me closely as I stepped towards him.

"You've been good to me," I said reaching him.

Reaching out, I let my fingers trail up his arm. He watched me but said nothing. "Every night when you think I'm asleep, you'd tell me that I am the woman of your dreams and that if anything happened to me you'll die a thousand deaths," I said as I reached his shoulder.

He caught my hand. "Don't rush, my love, I told you, I would wait," He said hoarsely.

"I know, but I'm okay now," I said, leaning up.

He touched my arm, making me fall back onto the balls of my feet.
Did he not want me anymore?

"Give yourself some more time, besides as much as I would love to take you right here and now, the chicken is burning," he said so casually.

I blinked. "What? Oh fuck chicken!" I exclaimed before whirling around and taking the pot off the stove.

He chuckled as he came up behind me. Pressing a kiss on my shoulder blade, he chuckled. "We can always order Indian food," he said before moving away.

I sighed.

I wanted to cook for him. To show him that I loved him and yes, well I knew I didn't have to do that to show him that I loved him, I wanted to anyway.