|Javier|
“Katherine?”
Her name slipped from my lips the moment I descended from the second floor of the penthouse, my voice echoing faintly across the spacious room.
My brows knitted together almost instantly. The stove was on, two pots simmering quietly on the range, steam curling upward in lazy wisps. The faint aroma of garlic and something savory drifted into the air. My steps slowed.
Katherine… cooking?
That didn’t make sense. She had once admitted, half-embarrassed, that she had no idea how to cook. I remembered teasing her about it, the way she’d laughed awkwardly, insisting she could learn someday. And yet, here was undeniable proof that someone was making an effort in my kitchen.
Before I could think further, movement stirred from the corner of my eye.
“Oh, sir Javier. You’r
