"What's that glorious smell?" Clara muttered, following the scent down the hall. It was rich and buttery—definitely coming from the kitchen.
She peeked in and froze. Nathaniel was there, sleeves rolled up, focused on a pan sizzling on the stove. He looked… domestic. Weirdly good at it, too. The kind of sight that made her forget for a second that he was supposed to be the cool, composed CEO of Cross Pharmaceuticals.
"Didn't know you could cook," she said.
She really didn't, she always chose to go out to eat, never getting a chance to taste Nat's cooking. Courtesy to Laura.
Nathaniel jumped, nearly dropping the spatula. "Clara! Don't sneak up on people like that!"
Clara laughed, holding up her hands. "Sorry! I didn't think the CEO of Cross Pharmaceuticals could be startled by a kitchen ambush."
He gave her a mock glare. "Very funny. It's just pasta."
"Pasta? That's what smells so good?" she asked, stepping closer to peek at the pan.
"Yeah," he said, plating it neatly. "Sit. You're eating with me."
She didn't argue, she was hungry. The moment she took a bite, her eyes widened. "Oh my god," she groaned. "This is heaven."
Nathaniel chuckled. "It's just pasta, Clara."
"Just pasta'? I'm lucky to be your fiancee," she said before realizing how that sounded.
His ears went red instantly. "You—you don't have to say things like that."
Clara grinned. "Aw, are you blushing? That's adorable."
"Keep teasing me and I'll revoke your dinner privileges," he said, though the smile tugging at his mouth ruined his attempt at seriousness.
She leaned forward, smirking. "You wouldn't dare."
Nathaniel tilted his head, pretending to think. "Depends. If you keep calling yourself lucky, I might start believing I'm the lucky one."
Clara froze mid-bite, cheeks burning. "Wha—"
He burst out laughing. "You're too easy."
Clara pouted, stabbing at her pasta. "You're mean."
"Maybe," he said with a grin.
They ate quietly for a while, the kind of silence that wasn't awkward—just comfortable. The kind that made her heart feel a little too full.
"We have work tomorrow," Nathaniel said after a moment. "If you're still tired, you don't have to come in."
Clara shook her head. "No, I'll go. I've already missed too much."
"Clara, you were drugged. It's fine to take another day."
"No," she said firmly. "If this were any other company, I'd be fired by now. I can't miss any more days, even if it wasn't my fault."
Nathaniel studied her for a long moment, his gaze softening. "Alright. But if you start looking like you're about to pass out again, I'm dragging you home myself."
She smiled faintly. "Deal."
The quiet that followed was warm, steady. It felt… right, like this was how things were meant to be.
When they finished eating, Clara glanced toward the sink where Nathaniel was already washing dishes. "Do you need any help?"
"No, you can go rest," he said without looking at her.
"It's still early. Let me just help a little," she said, walking over.
"Go watch a movie or something. The theater room's down the hall," he said.
It sounded tempting, but she didn't want to go alone. She wanted to stay here, with him. "You're so stubborn," she muttered. "I'm helping whether you like it or not."
Before Nathaniel could respond, she grabbed a plate from his hand. Bad idea.
*Crack.*
The plate hit the floor and shattered.
"I'm so sorry!" Clara gasped, crouching immediately.
"Don't touch it," Nathaniel warned, stepping forward.
But she'd already reached out. "Ow!" she yelped as a shard cut her finger.
Nathaniel sighed softly and took her hand before she could pull away. "I told you not to touch it." His voice was gentle, not angry—just the kind of calm that made her feel even guiltier.
She winced. "Guess I deserved that."
He shook his head. "You don't need to apologize. Accidents happen."
He guided her to a chair and grabbed a small first-aid kit from the cabinet. Clara watched as he cleaned the cut with quiet focus. His hands were steady, careful, and she couldn't help but notice how close he was. The air between them felt strangely charged.
"You didn't have to—"
"Yes, I did," he said simply, wrapping the bandage around her finger. "You'd just make it worse on your own."
Clara huffed a small laugh. "You're not wrong."
He smiled faintly as he secured the bandage. "There. Good as new. Try not to pick any fights with ceramic next time."
"I'll do my best," she said, smiling.
"You really can't sit still, can you?"
"Not when someone's doing all the work," she shot back.
"Next time," Nathaniel said, standing and meeting her gaze, "just keep me company instead. Less blood that way."
She laughed. "Fine and can we go watch a movie after?"
"Sure." He said laughing too.