Rejected by My Lover

Synopsis

The risotto was perfect—creamy, with just the right amount of white wine and parmesan. I stirred it one last time, watching steam rise in lazy curls under the soft kitchen lighting of Ryan's Upper East Side penthouse. Three years, and I still felt a flutter when I thought of this space as partly mine. Not officially, of course. Nothing with Ryan was ever official. I smoothed down the red dress I'd chosen tonight—the one he claimed to hate but couldn't keep his eyes off. A small rebellion, perhaps my only one. The fabric clung to my curves in a way that made me feel powerful, even as I played the role I'd perfected: the devoted girlfriend who wasn't actually a girlfriend. "Something smells amazing," Ryan's voice, low and commanding, sent a familiar shiver down my spine as he appeared in the doorway. His suit jacket was slung over one shoulder, tie loosened just enough to hint at the transition from ruthless investment banker to the man only I knew. "Just in time," I smiled, tilting my face up as he crossed the kitchen in three long strides. His lips brushed my temple—not quite my mouth, never too intimate too quickly. That was Ryan's way. Everything measured, controlled. "The red dress again?" he murmured against my hair, his free hand sliding around my waist. "You know what it does to me." "That's why I wore it," I replied, gently pulling away to serve our dinner.