(JEN'S POV)
I sat at the kitchen island, watching with blatant fascination as Adonis Blackwell—billionaire playboy and certified heartbreaker—moved around the kitchen like a seasoned chef.
“You keep staring at me like that, Jen, and I just might start charging you for every lingering gaze,” he teased me, smirking as he diced some vegetables with surprising precision.
Wha—ho—where?
My brain couldn’t even formulate the questions that I had in mind, and so I just continued to sit there with my mouth wide open in shock.
Somehow, I managed to shake it off, and when I did, I let out an amazed scoff, folding my arms in rebellious disbelief. “I’m just trying to process the fact that you actually know how to cook. I mean come on, I’m pretty sure you have maids who even tuck you in at night, an
