Chapter 52

Brinley's mind slowly untangled, each past case sparking clarity until an idea struck like lightning.

She snatched up a pen, her hand moving in quick, decisive strokes across a fresh sheet.

This time the lines poured out without resistance, solutions surfacing where she had been stuck for three days.

Austin,watching from the side, felt the tight knot of worry ease from his chest, his gaze softening with a quiet tenderness.

HHe pulled out his phone and quickly typed a message to Miguel. "Tell the butler to make some soup and take it over to my wife's office."

Austin understood Brinley's stubborn streak better than anyone. Once she committed to something, there was no stopping her halfway.

He didn't intend to talk her out of the grind-his role was to build her a cushion, to make sure she felt protected and supported while she drove herself forward.

The sunlight outside mellowed, its warm glow spilling across the desk in a hazy wash of gold.

Setting her pen aside, Brinley studied the proposal, almost finished at last, and let out a slow, steady breath that loosened the tension in her shoulders.

She turned toward Austin and saw him slumped in the chair, fast asleep, her discarded drafts still clutched loosely in his hand.

She figured he had come straight from company matters, exhausted and lacking proper rest.

Brinley rose silently, fetched a blanket, and laid it gently across his shoulders.

Her gaze lingered on the hard line of his brow, furrowed even in sleep. Almost without thinking, she reached out, her fingers hovering, wanting to ease that stubborn crease. But at the last instant, she recoiled, startled by her own impulse.

Brinley sank back into her chair, her eyes lighting up at the flawless connection plan glowing across her screen, and a faint, satisfied smile tugged at her lips.

Two days before the bidding proposal's deadline, she at last sent off the completed file.

That left forty-eight precious hours before she would have to stand on stage at the bidding conference and defend it.

For once, she allowed herself to clock out early.

As she pulled into the Hillcrest Vila drive, her eyes landed on a polished black Maybach-Austin's-already stationed by the garage.

"Mr. Moore returned earlier than usual today," the butler said warmly as he accepted her bag, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "He mentioned how hard you've been working and went so far as to cook soup himself."

Brinley froze in the entryway,caught off guard.

Austin rarely had a spare moment to breathe, let alone cook. He clearly knew she'd be home earlier today,which accounted for his early return.

With that thought lingering, she quickened her steps toward the kitchen. Through the frosted glass door, a shadow shifted.

The moment she pushed the door open, the rich fragrance of mushrooms drifted out to greet her, washing away the heaviness of her long day.

Austin stood over the stove in easy loungewear, sleeves pushed to his forearms, the light catching on the smooth lines of his wrists.

With a ladle in hand, he stirred the simmering pot, his profile softened by the golden glow of the kitchen lamp-stripped of boardroom sharpness, cloaked instead in the warmth of domestic calm.

"Perfect timing," he murmured, eyes on the soup, his voice carrying the ease of someone who had done this a hundred times before."Dinner will be on the table in ten minutes." Brinley lingered at the doorway, leaning her shoulder against the frame. Watching his careful, almost awkward movements, she felt a flicker of disbelief, as if the entire moment were some tender dream.

"What made you decide to cook soup today?" she inquired.

"Noticed you've seemed run-down lately," Austin said, lifting a spoonful toward her with a faint smile. "See if the flavor works-I can add more salt if it's too plain."

The rising steam curled against her nose, fragrant with earthy mushrooms, just as the spoon reached her lips.

Brinley parted her mouth without thinking, but the instant the broth touched her tongue, she sucked in a sharp breath, the scalding heat leaving it tingling and numb.

"Did it burn you?" Austin quickly set the spoon aside, leaning closer as one hand anchored lightly on her shoulder and the other brushed the corner of her lips with his thumb. His tone softened. "Take it slowver."

His fingertips, faintly cool, skimmed across her skin like a feather, sending a shiver darting through her.Brinley's whole body went rigid, her breath hitching.

The touch was toosudden, far too intimate, and her pulse lurched wildly.

She stepped back at once, hiding her mouth behind her hand as if shielding herself.s fine,"she muttered, voice muffled and flustered."Don't worry."

Austin's hand lingered in the air, suspended between them. His gaze flicked to the flush coloring her ears,amusement glimmering in his eyes. He said nothing, though his lips curved faintly, choosing silence over teasing.

He pulled his hand back and, with casual ease, gave the soup a slow stir. "It still needs a little longer. Go wash up first."

At his words, Brinley darted into the bathroom, twisting the cold tap open with trembling fingers.

She drew in a long breath, forcing herself to steady her hammering pulse, though her mind remained a snarl of confusion. All that time-if Austin had been hiding some darker intent, she ought to have caught even the faintest hint.

Yet nothing ever slipped. He had been nothing but attentive and meticulous, treating her like a cherished partner-his quiet devotion so intense it almost unsettled her.

Maybe it was time she carved out a moment to sit down with Austin and have an honest conversation.

She didn't have the strength for it now, but once the bidding ordeal was behind her, she promised herself she'd face him head-on.

When Brinley stepped back into the dining room, the table was already laid out.

The dishes weren't lavish, yet each plate bore the mark of patient, deliberate effort.

"Here, taste this." Austin carefully placed a piece of bass on her plate. He had picked away every last bone before sliding it toward her."You've been missing meals again, so I made you something. You deserve a real meal."

Brinley lowered her gaze, spoon moving slowly as she ate in silence. She didn't dare meet his eyes, her voice barely above a whisper when she murmured, "Thanks."

The fish melted on her tongue, tender and flavorful.

"Your cooking's come a long way," she said at last, blurting it out in an effort to cut through the delicate tension between them.