The aroma of lemon-butter and seared salmon filled the open-plan kitchen, a scent that felt far more expensive than any takeout Jake had ever shared in a cramped apartnt. Catharine moved with a surprising grace between the professional-grade stove and the marble island, plating the fish alongside roasted asparagus and a side of garlic-infused quinoa.
She looked at him, her eyes bright with a mixture of pride and nerves as she slid a plate toward him. "Well? Don’t just stare at the presentation. I didn’t spend forty minutes navigating that induction cooktop for it to go cold."
Jake took a deliberate bite, rolling the flavors around before his expression went flat. He chewed slowly, then set his fork down with a heavy sigh. "Cath, I have so bad news."
Her smile faltered instantly. "What? Is it too salty? I knew I shouldn’t have trusted that imported sea salt."
"The bad news," Jake said, a smirk finally breaking through, "is that I might never be able to eat a restaurant al again. This is actually dangerous. If the trading world finds out you can cook like this, they’ll kidnap you just for the catering."
Catharine let out a breath she’d been holding and swiped at his arm with a kitchen towel. "You’re an idiot. I was actually worried for a second."
"I’m serious, it’s incredible," he said, taking another larger bite. "Better than the Wagyu we had for lunch."
They ate in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, the only sound being the distant hum of the penthouse’s climate control. Jake watched her over the rim of his glass, the light from the waterfall outside reflecting in her eyes.
"So," he started gently, "we’ve spent all day talking about my new life and my crazy plans. I realized I don’t know much about yours. What about your family? Are they in Aurelia, or are they back ho?"
The change in the atmosphere was instantaneous. Catharine’s fork stilled against her plate. She didn’t look up, her gaze suddenly fixed on a piece of asparagus as if it were the most interesting thing in the room.
"My parents... they stay in the south," she said, her voice losing its playful edge. "We aren’t exactly close. They had a very specific idea of what my life should look like, and ’starving finance graduate’ wasn’t part of the blueprint."
She took a small sip of water, her hand tightening slightly around the glass. "But I have a little sister, Maya. She’s seventeen. She’s the smartest, bravest person I know. I call her every week. I want her to know that there’s a world outside that small town, even if our parents don’t want to see it."
Jake saw the way her shoulders had tensed, the way she carefully avoided ntioning anything else about her mother or father. The silence that followed wasn’t the comfortable kind they usually shared; it was heavy with things left unsaid. He reached across the table, briefly covering her hand with his.
"She’s lucky to have a big sister like you," he said softly. "And whenever you’re ready to tell the rest, I’m here to listen. But for now, let’s just focus on Maya. Maybe we can send her sothing nice from the city."
Catharine looked up, her expression softening with gratitude. "I’d like that. Thank you, Jake."
After dinner, Jake insisted on doing the dishes, claiming it was the least he could do for a five-star al. Catharine didn’t argue, heading upstairs to the master suite to freshen up. As the suds swirled in the sink, Jake found his thoughts wandering back to his own family.
He dried his hands and leaned against the counter, pulling his phone from his pocket. The anxiety in Aliya’s voice from earlier that day still felt like a splinter in his mind. He pulled up her social dia profiles again. Her last post was still that coffee cup from three days ago. He checked their private chat; his last three ssages remained unread, sitting there with a single grey checkmark.
’Sothing is wrong,’ he thought, his brow furrowing as he stared at the screen. ’Aliya is never off the grid this long. Even when she’s busy, she’s lurking.’
He hovered over the call button, his thumb twitching. He wanted to demand an explanation, to send the car to her apartnt, to do sothing. But he forced himself to breathe. If she was dealing with a ’girl thing’ or so personal drama, suffocating her wouldn’t help. He decided he would drive over to see her first thing Sunday morning. Saturday was already booked; he intended to spend the day with Catharine.
He turned off the kitchen lights and walked toward the master bedroom. The hallway was lit with soft, recessed LEDs that guided him to the heavy oak door. He pushed it open and stopped.
The room was bathed in the warm, golden glow of the bedside lamps. Catharine was standing in front of the full-length mirror, her back to him. She had changed into a silk slip dress that shimred like liquid silver, matching the watch on her wrist. She was turning her arm slowly, watching the diamonds on the Cartier catch the light.
She saw him in the reflection and turned, a playful, slightly nervous smile dancing on her lips. "So," she said, leaning back against the doorfra of the walk-in closet. "Which bedroom were we exploring first, Mr. Rivers? Or were you planning on sleeping on that very expensive sofa?"
Jake grinned, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. The click of the latch sounded final, shutting out the rest of the world. "Oh, I didn’t think you’d be the one to bring that up so directly."
Catharine blushed, but she didn’t look away. Her gaze was steady, filled with a heat that matched his own. "Well," she whispered, "everything has its ti. And I think we’ve spent enough ti talking today."
Jake walked toward her, the space between them shrinking until he could feel the warmth radiating from her skin. He reached out, his fingers grazing the cold tal of her new watch before sliding up to her cheek. "I think where we are is a very good place to start."
He leaned in, his lips eting hers in a kiss that started slow and tentative before deepening into sothing far more desperate. The world outside the Zenith—the stocks, the sister, the corporate sharks—faded into a distant roar. There was only the scent of her perfu, the softness of the silk beneath his fingers, and the heavy pull of a connection that had been building since they were two broke students sharing a library desk.
The rest of the night was a blur of whispered promises and the quiet luxury of the penthouse. For the first ti in his life, Jake didn’t feel like he was running from sothing. He was exactly where he was ant to be.
The morning light in the Zenith was different from any other place Jake had ever lived. Because they were forty floors up, the sun didn’t just crawl into the room; it flooded it, turning the white silk sheets into a sea of glowing warmth.
Catharine stirred, stretching her arms above her head. She turned over, expecting to find the space beside her occupied, but it was not. Instead, she heard the soft clink of a tray being set down.
Jake was standing there, already dressed in a pair of his new Loro Piana lounge trousers and a simple white tee. He was holding a heavy silver tray laden with the spoils of their late-night grocery run: perfectly folded olets, a bowl of chilled berries, and two cups of coffee that slled like heaven.
"Good morning," he said, his voice still rough with sleep. He set the tray down on the sprawling bed, moving with a careful precision that made her smile. "I figured since I’m the one who didn’t know how to stock a kitchen, the least I could do was prove I knew how to use the stove once it was full."
Catharine sat up, propping herself against the velvet headboard. She looked at the feast and then up at him, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I thought billionaires had people for this, Mr. Rivers. Are you telling I’ve been dating a secret chef this whole ti?"
"I’m a hands-on CEO," Jake teased, sliding into the spot beside her. "I like to oversee every departnt personally. Especially the departnt of breakfast."
She took a sip of the coffee, letting out a long, contented sigh. "It’s perfect. Though, I have to say, your performance as a sous-chef last night was... notable. You’re surprisingly good at taking orders."
Jake laughed, reaching for a piece of toast. "Well, you were holding a sharp knife and wearing diamonds. I knew better than to argue with a woman in that position. Besides, after the workout we had last night, I figured we both needed the protein."
Catharine felt a heat rise to her cheeks that had nothing to do with the coffee. She nudged him with her shoulder. "A workout? Is that what we’re calling it now? I recall a lot more ’exploring the penthouse’ than actual exercising."
"It was a very thorough investigation of the structural integrity of the furniture," Jake deadpanned, leaning in to kiss her forehead. "And for the record, the Zenith passed every test."
They spent the next hour eating and talking, the conversation drifting from the absurdity of the shopping trip to the quiet reality of the life they were building. For the first ti in weeks, Jake didn’t check his phone once. The market was closed for the weekend, the ridian Group’s stocks were frozen in a digital stalemate, and the office hunt could wait until Monday.
The day stretched out before them like a blank canvas. They didn’t feel the need to go out, to show off the cars, or to prove their status to the world below. The Zenith was their fortress.
They spent the afternoon moving from the bedroom to the massive living area, where Jake put on a curated playlist that filled the apartnt with low-fidelity beats. They read books on the terrace, the breeze playing with the pages, and occasionally ended up back in each other’s arms. The intimacy was different today—slower, more certain. Without the rush of the shopping spree or the adrenaline of a new apartnt, they were simply two people discovering the depth of their connection in a place that finally allowed them the space to breathe.
As the sun began its slow descent toward the horizon, casting long, purple shadows across the city, Jake found himself lying on the oversized sofa with Catharine’s head on his chest. The penthouse was quiet, save for the distant, rhythmic rush of the waterfall on the terrace.
"I could get used to this," she whispered, her fingers tracing the hem of his shirt. "The quiet. The lack of... everything else."
"We’ll make sure there’s more of it," Jake promised, his hand resting in her hair. "The world is going to get very loud on Monday morning. But this floor? This is ours. No one gets up here unless we let them."
It was the most peaceful day of his life, a twenty-four-hour bubble of luxury and affection that made the struggles of the past feel like a different lifeti. He felt stronger, more grounded. He was no longer just a boy with a lucky break; he was a man with sothing to protect. And as the stars began to poke through the twilight, Jake knew he would do whatever it took to keep this feeling alive.
The weekend wasn’t over, but the rest could wait. For now, the only thing that mattered was the warmth of the girl in his arms and the steady hum of the Zenith around them.
---
User Comments
0 comments from readers