Cecilia was not expecting to wake up to the smell of burning toast.
She jolted upright, glanced at the clock—7:12 AM—and blinked sleep out of her eyes. Her apartment was small, but it had one consistent charm: silence in the morning. So the aroma of incinerated bread and the very suspicious banging in the kitchen were definite red flags.
She stumbled out of bed and made her way toward the noise.
There, in her tiny, mismatched kitchen, stood Samuel Blackwood, billionaire tech mogul, barefoot, in sweatpants, holding a whisk like it was a grenade, and looking very, very serious.
"You're awake!" he beamed, like this was totally normal.
Cecilia rubbed her eyes. "Are you cooking in my kitchen?"
"I told you yesterday—sprinkles and all. I'm a man of my word."
She blinked again. "You broke into my apartment?"
He looked offended. "Leo let me in! And I brought coffee."
Her eyes shifted to the side. On the counter sat three takeout cups from her favorite coffee shop. Leo, seated on the counter in superhero pajamas, waved a plastic spoon like a magic wand.
"Mommy! Mr. Samuel made purple pancakes!"
Cecilia walked over slowly. "Purple?"
Samuel turned the pan around to show her the crime scene. What she saw couldn't legally be called pancakes. They were… lumpy. Gooey. Kind of threatening. But yes—purple, thanks to an overzealous amount of blueberries and, inexplicably, food coloring.
"I wanted them to look exciting," he said defensively. "But I may have miscalculated the flour ratio."
"You think?"
---
Ten Minutes Later – The Rescue Mission
Cecilia tied her hair up, rolled her sleeves, and took over. Samuel leaned against the wall, arms folded, watching her like she was defusing a bomb.
"You're really good at this," he said.
"I'm good at not poisoning people, yes."
He chuckled. "It's sexy."
She dropped the whisk. "Excuse me?"
He shrugged. "I said what I said."
Cecilia gave him a warning glance, but a smile tugged at her lips. "Careful, Blackwood. Compliments like that might get you stuck doing dishes."
"Worth it."
Leo, now busy coloring on the fridge with magnets, chimed in. "Mommy always wins pancake wars."
Samuel looked at Cecilia. "Remind me to challenge her to a waffle duel next time."
---
After Breakfast
With Leo temporarily distracted by Saturday morning cartoons and a sugar rush, Cecilia finally sat down with her cup of coffee, groaning.
Samuel joined her on the tiny couch, and their shoulders brushed lightly.
She meant to move. She really did.
But he was warm. And it was too early for emotional resistance.
"So," he said, sipping his drink. "This is nice."
She looked over at him. "It's dangerous."
He raised an eyebrow. "How so?"
"You, here. Us... falling into old rhythms."
"Who said anything about falling?" he murmured.
She glanced down. "Samuel…"
"Okay, fine." He leaned back. "How about... slipping slightly into mutual affection?"
She laughed, leaning her head back against the couch. "You're impossible."
"And you're breathtaking when you laugh."
Her head turned slowly. The teasing was gone from his tone.
They stared at each other. Again, that charged silence stretched between them, full of things unsaid.
"You're flirting with me," she whispered.
He smiled. "No. I'm reminding you that we were never finished."
Her heart pounded.
Then—Leo screamed from the bathroom.
Both adults jumped to their feet.
---
Emergency:
Cecilia burst into the bathroom to find Leo covered in green foam. The dinosaur-themed toothpaste had exploded. Somehow.
Samuel peeked over her shoulder. "Is he... bubbling?"
Leo grinned, his teeth neon green. "Look! I'm the Hulk!"
Cecilia sighed. "That's it. No more caffeinated cartoons."
Samuel handed her a towel. "I blame your genes. Mischief clearly runs in the family."
"You've known him for two days."
"And he's already out-pranked me twice. It's a gift."
Cecilia knelt beside Leo. "Let's get you cleaned up, Hulk."
As she wiped his cheeks, Samuel leaned against the doorway, watching them.
There was something soft in his eyes.
Something vulnerable.
---
Later That Day
Samuel helped clean up the kitchen disaster before heading toward the door.
Cecilia walked him out, Leo asleep on the couch under a blanket, mid-sugar crash.
"I had fun," he said, adjusting his coat.
She raised an eyebrow. "You set fire to a toaster and got green goo on your shoes."
"I meant the company."
She smirked. "You're still corny."
He stepped closer. "And you're still everything I remember. Smart, brave... impossible not to fall for."
Her breath caught.
He touched her cheek lightly, the way he used to. "Tell me you don't feel it too."
She hesitated. But she didn't pull away.
"I feel it," she whispered. "That's the problem."
He nodded slowly. "I'm not going anywhere this time."
Then he kissed her forehead—tender and soft—and turned to go.
And Cecilia stood there, heart thudding, wondering how long she could keep pretending she didn't want to fall all over again.