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12 min read

Chef's Kiss

On the eve of her wedding to Hunter Coleman, 34 year old Serena Blair runs into an intense young chef.
Chef's Kiss

I take a deep breath of the sea air, hoping it will calm my stomach. Between the weight of the ring on my finger, the expectations on my shoulder, and my fiancé’s hand in mine, I don’t know how I’m supposed to achieve anything. How am I supposed to get through this tasting, let along the long walk down the aisle to a man I can barely tolerate.

Hunter tugs on my hand, jerking me closer to him with a stern look. He’s gorgeous, it’s impossible to argue that. His silky dark hair, those deep brooding eyes, full lips, sharp jaw, plus the fact he’s dedicated himself to a life at the gym. Women would kill to be in my place.

And I’d happily let them if I didn’t have my father’s business to look out for. His father promised a lucrative partnership with my father’s law firm in exchange for me making his son an honest man … on paper.

From the moment we met, Hunter made it clear he won’t be exclusive. He gets to have his fun, I’m his and his alone as soon as the vows are read, and from then on, I’m his play thing when he wants me and the one running the house while he works, sleeps around, and attends big public events as a tech mogul.

“You don’t look very happy to be with me.” He growls. I turn up a smile and he nods. “Good girl. Keep that smile on when we’re in public. I don’t want any whispers.”

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