Chapter 33

MILA

I crossed my fingers tightly. Next to me, Felix craned his neck to hear better.

“Congratulations! We’re thrilled to offer you the space. You had a very impressive application process, and we would love to provide you the space you need to open a restaurant!”

I clapped my hand over my mouth, shocked and ecstatic.

“Thank you,” I somehow managed. “I’m really excited for this opportunity.”

Nina started talking about emailing me specifics and dimensions so I could start planning the renovations, but her voice sounded as if I was listening to it from underwater. All I could think about was the fact that I’d done it. I had my own space.

Felix looked at me with so much admiration in his eyes, it made me want to start crying all over again. He grasped my hand in his and gazed into my eyes.

“I’m so proud of you,” he whispered.

After I hung up the phone, Felix pulled out two tiny bottles of champagne from the car cooler. He handed me one and kept the other for himself.

“A toast,” he said, screwing off the top. “To your bright future.”

“To our bright future,” I corrected him. It wasn’t just mine anymore–the future belonged to both of us. Together.

Like it was meant to be.

We toasted, and in that moment, it felt like nothing could go wrong ever again.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. We drove past my new space–mine, all mine–before heading home, and I felt like I was walking on air. Things were finally going right for me, after weeks of disaster. Maybe Felix was my good-luck charm.

When we got home (although I was still getting used to calling Felix’s apartment “home”), I told Felix I wanted to cook a celebration dinner for us that night, to mark not only my new restaurant, but also the fact that we were now living together.

I knew he had not had my signature dish from back home–the beef brisket in clear broth–so I decided to ask Mrs. Raven to grab the ingredients while we set up the new furniture and art pieces. Felix was in the process of building my new bookshelf when I excused myself to go work on dinner.

It had only been a week or so since I’d last been cooking in a kitchen, but it felt like an eternity. It was like a homecoming as I surveyed my ingredients and started mentally planning a menu.

The brisket was easy for me–at this point it felt like second nature. While that was cooking, I chopped some carrots and started preparing a risotto. I fiddled around with a few appetizer and dessert ideas as well before landing on my final spread.

During my last day at Samara’s Place, when I had been asked to prepare a carrot dish, I had experimented with brown sugar glazed carrots. They had turned out delicious, and it seemed like something Felix might enjoy.

Secretly, I wanted to impress him. I might not have been royal, I might not have been rich, I might not have been able to buy him expensive presents or start a business for him, but I could cook.

The brisket simmered on the stove, filling the entire apartment with a rich, hearty smell. Felix drifted into the kitchen a few times, asking if he could help, but I shooed him out every time.

It was my turn to do something for him.

While everything was cooking, I prepared our dining table, laying out silverware and folding some cloth napkins I found in the linen closet. I had convinced Felix to buy a few candles while we were out shopping, and I lit one for the center of the table.

I was about to step into the living room to call Felix for dinner when I realized that maybe I wanted to put a tiny bit more effort in. I changed into a simple black dress and shook my hair free of my braid before inviting Felix to take a seat.

FELIX

It had been a rather odd sensation, shopping for furniture with Mila. I had always been the only one who lived in my apartment. Hell, Mrs. Raven was the only other person who even had a key. Sharing my space felt more intimate than any physical activity Mila and I had ever done.

Building the bookshelves this afternoon had at least taken my mind off things. I had the foresight to get rid of any signs of dragons from the apartment a few days ago, moving all the artifacts and books to my study in the castle. There was still time to figure out a way to explain that whole secret to Mila.

Tonight wasn’t the night.

When I entered my dining room, I could feel my jaw drop. Mila had transformed the space into a romantic, cozy date spot. She turned the lights off, so the only illumination came from the candles lit around the room and the soft glow of the city lights streaming in from the windows. The table was set out with my best cutlery, and she had folded the napkins into little swans.

Not to mention, there was an assortment of heavenly smells floating in from the kitchen, smells that had been distracting me all afternoon. My stomach growled at the sight of a bread basket in the center of the table, a variety of jams and jellies surrounding it, lit by the glow of the candles.

The room was beautiful.

The woman was even more stunning.

In one of her new dresses, her hair falling in soft curls around her shoulders, her cheeks flushed with the heat of the kitchen, Mila was easily the most beautiful girl I had ever laid eyes on.

And on top of that, she had prepared a feast.

Mrs. Raven had clearly pointed Mila in the direction of the fine wine, because she had created a pairing to go with each course. With each glass she served, each plate she placed in front of me, I could feel a warm glow growing in my chest.

And it wasn’t coming from whatever she was feeling–this was coming from me.

But with every passing moment, that tiny twinge of guilt in my heart grew. Mila had gone out of her way to make a wonderful night for us, and she had no idea that I was lying to her. I knew what was being asked of me. I knew I was expected to make her fall in love with me as quickly as possible.

I liked Mila, I really did. I just hadn’t been counting on maybe falling in love with her, too.

“Cheers,” I said, lifting my wine glass to hers. After several courses of the best food I’d ever had, she had topped off the meal with my secret favorite–the prickly pear lemon pie. Mila grinned as she raised her glass to meet mine.

“Thank you for today,” she said, lifting the glass to her lips. “I couldn't have done any of this without you.”

“Hey, the restaurant is all you,” I told her. “I’m just an interested party.”

“Well, I’ll be sure to give you the best table in the place on opening night,” Mila promised.

I smiled at her as I finished my glass.

“How are you liking Fresonia now that you aren’t afraid of jail time?” I asked her.

Mila giggled as she took a bite of pie. “Well, it’s much better now that I feel comfortable showing my face in public,” she said. “It really is a beautiful country. I know I ended up here through, ah, unfortunate circumstances, but I really do like it here.”

“Fresonia likes you,” I told her. “And I do too.”

She blushed. “I would be interested in staying here for a while.”

She said it casually, but it felt like a loaded statement. She knew it, too, from the way that she chugged the rest of her glass.

I let that information hit me, trying desperately to shove down the feeling of guilt that stabbed my chest. It meant more than her just liking the country–she liked me enough to stick around for a while.

I wasn’t sure how to process that. Maybe I should start ring shopping in the morning.

It was looking more and more likely that she would say yes.

I tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. She blushed, looking up at me through thick eyelashes. She really had the prettiest eyes.

“I’m really glad you’re here, Mila,” I said, softly. “You have no idea how lucky I am to have found you.”

That, at least, wasn’t a lie.

Mila responded by leaning over and kissing me, wrapping her hands lightly around my neck.

I cleared off the table in one clean sweep. Mila looked at me, surprised, as the empty plates clattered to the floor.

Her shock turned to pleasure as I lifted her onto the table, laying her out like a feast before me.

In the glow of the candles, nothing had ever felt more right.