Roth cooks a meal

The scent of something mouthwatering distracted her from her work. She frowned, rose from her chair, and made her way to the kitchen. Had Roth hired a chef to prepare dinner? But he wouldn’t be home from work for several hours…

She stopped in the doorway and felt her mouth sag a little as she took in the sight of Roth at the stove in his button up, sleeves rolled up, frying something in a pan.

“Am I hallucinating?” she said dazedly.

He turned his head and grinned. “Why don’t you come over here and find out?”

She obeyed, mostly to see what he was cooking. The sight of the sizzling steak made her stomach growl.

“What are you,” she began, but was interrupted by a kiss. “What are you doing home so early?” she finished.

“Did what I needed to do,” he said before he flipped the steak. “And I was craving a steak.”

Her eyebrows shot up. Roth never acknowledged his hunger. Meals were something he had to schedule because he never stopped working. When asked what he wanted to eat, he never had a preference. Saying he was craving a steak was more than a little odd.

“Is there a reason why you decided to cook and not ask your very qualified Michelin star chef downstairs to deliver a steak?”

“I wanted to do it myself,” Roth said as he handed her a glass of red wine.

She eyed him as she took a long sip and spotted the salad on the island. She went over to inspect it and then saw the used grater in the sink. She whirled to find Roth leaning against the counter watching her.

“You grated Parmesan cheese for a salad?” Her voice was hoarse with disbelief.

“I’ve cooked for you before.”

She stared at him for a moment before she waved those painful memories away. “When we were kids, and you weren’t running a billion-dollar company. You can’t waste your time making salads! Your time is too valuable.”

He turned back to the pan and tipped it to scoop up butter to baste the steak. “I’ve been talking to Sullivan.”

She blinked at the abrupt subject change. “How is he?”

“Desperate to pass on lessons he’s learned.” He glanced at her as he set the pan down on the open flame. “You know he has cancer.”

“Yes. He told me at the Ball.”

“He likes you.”

“The feeling’s mutual.”

Roth surveyed her silently for a moment before he said, “When we first got together, I’d rush through work so I could get home before you to cook. It was the highlight of my day to see your face when you saw whatever I made for you. It wasn’t much, but you acted like it was the best thing you’d ever tasted. I promised myself when I made it, I’d make you fancy dinners.”

“I don’t expect that of you,” she said quietly.

“I know,” he said simply. “But I want to.”

She swallowed hard and looked out at the view. “What does Sullivan have to do with this?”

“He pointed out that chasing power and money is a never-ending, unrewarding game that you sacrifice everything for. He reminded me the simplest, cheapest things makes us happy and I thought of our beginning. How I didn’t care what Maximus was doing to my businesses because I had you.”

**This is a raw draft of Bitter Sins. Please do not share or distribute.

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