Chapter 240: Quiet Dinner

Chapter 240: Chapter 240: Quiet Dinner

The heavy oak doors of the master suite clicked shut, cutting off the faint hum of the city below. The Zenith was wrapped in the warm, golden light of the early evening, the floor-to-ceiling glass looking out over the glowing grid of Aurelia’s skyline.

Jake set his keys on the entry table and stretched his arms, feeling the stiffness in his shoulders finally loosen. He had shed his dusty field jacket and boots in the hallway, trading them for a plain black t-shirt and dark jeans.

Catharine walked out of the study, holding a half-empty mug of tea. She was wearing an oversized cream sweater and sweatpants, her hair tied back in a loose, messy bun. The moment she saw him, her face lit up with a genuine smile.

"Look who’s back from the wild north," she teased, walking over and stepping right into his space.

Jake didn’t waste a second. He slid his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him and burying his face into the crook of her neck, breathing in the soft scent of vanilla and fresh rain.

"I told you I wasn’t staying overnight," he murmured, leaning up to kiss her lips. "When did you get home?"

"I just got here a few minutes ago," Catharine laughed softly into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I half-expected Marcus to lock you in a boardroom up there until Friday."

"He considered it," Jake smirked, pulling back just enough to look at her. "He wanted to run night audits on the utility grids, but I told him I had better places to be."

"Good choice," she smiled, leaning up on her tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his chin. "Are you starving? I was just about to start making something."

"Ravenous. What are we making?"

"Pasta," she said, taking his hand and pulling him toward the kitchen. "I got fresh fettuccine, garlic, cherry tomatoes, and some basil. You’re on chopping duty."

Jake rolled up his sleeves and grabbed a chef’s knife from the block while Catharine set a pot of water on the broad induction stove.

"So, how bad was the trip?" she asked, washing her hands at the sink. "Did Noah and Leon survive? Did they even go home before going to Mult?"

"You should’ve seen them, they looked like zombies," Jake chuckled, dicing the garlic into fine slivers. "They showed up at the tarmac in dark sunglasses, nursing bottles of water like their lives depended on it. Leon tried to blame me for leaving the club early last night, saying he was forced to entertain four girls by himself until four in the morning."

Catharine burst out laughing, leaning against the counter. "Poor Leon. The ultimate sacrifice. Did Marcus tear into them?"

"Oh, absolutely. Gave them a lecture on ’operational discipline’ before the pilot even cleared the runway," Jake said with a grin. "Though to be fair, once we hit the site, both of them locked in. We spent three solid hours trudging through dirt, reviewing soil samples and checking structural girders."

"Sounds exhausting," she said, tossing a generous pinch of salt into the boiling water. She slid the fettuccine into the pot, stirring it gently with a wooden spoon. "Anything go wrong up there?"

"Just the usual games," Jake said casually, scraping the garlic off the cutting board into a skillet with olive oil. "Some local supplier named Mark Smith thought he could squeeze us for thirty percent extra on gravel because we’re under a tight deadline. Thought we were just a bunch of rich kids playing developer."

Catharine raised an eyebrow, watching him turn on the burner under the skillet. "Mark Smith? Who is he?"

"Just a guy who owns a few quarries in the northern valley," Jake said, tossing the cherry tomatoes into the pan. The oil sizzled loudly, filling the kitchen with the rich smell of seared garlic. "Adrian took care of it on the flight back. Found out the Vale Group holds a chunk of Smith’s bank debt. Adrian called the bank manager, froze his credit lines, and by the time we landed, Smith was calling our site engineer begging to sell his stone at half price."

Catharine shook her head, a soft laugh escaping her lips. "Remind me never to get on Adrian’s bad side. He operates like a silent assassin."

"He really does," Jake agreed, leaning over to stir the tomatoes as they softened. He looked over at her, his eyes softening. "What about you? How was your day?"

Catharine let out a dramatic sigh, resting her chin in her hand. "Oh, I made the mistake of stopping by the shared apartment to grab the rest of my winter clothes after work."

Jake turned his head, looking amused. "What happened?"

"Sarah and Lisa put me through an absolute interrogation," Catharine said, rolling her eyes playfully. "The second I walked through the door, Sarah folded her arms and said, ’Look who finally remembered she has a home!’ Lisa accused me of abandoning them for a wealthy boyfriend and leaving them to deal with the leaky bathroom faucet all by themselves."

"Did they really?" Jake laughed, tossing the cooked pasta directly into the skillet with the tomatoes and garlic.

"Yes! They spent half the time dramatically complaining about how they miss me, but then spent the next half asking if your penthouse has a private pool and if you have any handsome, single billionaire friends for them," she laughed. "I had to explain to Lisa that most of your business circle would probably give her a headache within ten minutes."

"Hey, Leon’s single," Jake pointed out with a grin, tossing the pasta with a pair of tongs. "He’d probably keep her entertained for hours."

"Absolutely not. Lisa would destroy him," Catharine cracked up, grabbing two ceramic bowls from the cabinet. "I promised I’d host a movie night with them next week here so they would stop accusing me of slipping off the grid."

"Sounds like a plan. Then make sure to stock the pantry with whatever snacks they want."

Jake plated the pasta into the two bowls, and Catharine sprinkled fresh basil and shaved parmesan over the top. They grabbed their bowls and two glasses of water, heading over to the small marble breakfast table by the window instead of the massive formal dining room.

They sat down together, the warm meal smelling incredible between them. Jake took his first bite and nodded approvingly. "Okay, this is amazing. We should cook more often."

"We definitely should," Catharine agreed, swirling her fork into the noodles. She ate a bite, looking over at him over the edge of her glass. "Are you nervous about tomorrow morning? The President’s going to be there, right?"

"President Spencer, the Minister of Transport, half the cabinet, and every major news outlet in the country," Jake said, taking a sip of water. "I’m not nervous about the event itself. The stage is set, security is locked down, and the site is ready. I just want the speeches to end so we can actually get the heavy machinery moving."

"You’re going to look incredible up on that platform," she said softly, her eyes holding his with warm affection.

Jake reached across the small table, sliding his hand over hers. "I’d look a lot better if you were sitting in the VIP front row."

Catharine smiled, squeezing his fingers gently. "I’ll be watching the livestream right here from the sofa, cheering you on. You don’t need me distracting you while you’re shaking hands with the President."

"You’re never a distraction," Jake said softly, leaning forward. "Well... maybe a little one."

She smirked, tapping his hand with her fork. "Eat your dinner, Rivers."

Jake chuckled, taking another bite before leaning back slightly. "You know, once I get back from Mult tomorrow afternoon and clear the post-ceremony briefings... we should take off for the weekend."

Catharine blinked, setting her fork down in surprise. "Wait, what? A weekend getaway? Out of nowhere?"

"Why not?" Jake asked, watching her reaction with a subtle smile. "Think about it. We haven’t gone anywhere just the two of us since everything picked up with Aurelia Capitals."

"Jake, it’s a sweet idea, but it’s practically impossible," Catharine reasoned, shaking her head gently. "The moment you step foot inside a commercial airport, people and reporters are going to crowd you. It’ll be a public spectacle before we even get our boarding passes."

"Then we won’t go near a commercial terminal," Jake replied smoothly. "We’ll just rent a private jet."

Catharine stared at him, her lips parting slightly. "Rent a private jet for a two-day trip? Jake, that’s completely unnecessary and ridiculously expensive—"

"Catharine," Jake interrupted gently, leaning in with a quiet, firm warmth in his eyes. "Money isn’t an issue. Your peace of mind is. If renting a jet gets us out of the city without fifty camera flashes in your face, it’s worth every single mark."

Catharine looked into his dark, steadfast gaze, realizing there was no arguing with him when he made up his mind like this. A quiet, breathless smile slowly broke across her face as she gave in.

"Fine," she sighed softly, though her eyes were glowing. "If you’re going to be stubborn and charter a plane, then Italy has to be the destination. Deal?"

"Deal," Jake smirked, raising his water glass to hers. "Italy it is."

They finished their meal together, chatting easily about normal, everyday things—her upcoming classes, a movie she wanted to watch, and how Miller had accidentally bought the wrong brand of coffee beans earlier that morning.

After cleaning up the kitchen together, Jake took Catharine’s hand and led her over to the master bedroom. They kicked off their shoes and climbed under the heavy duvet, the soft sheets wrapping around them as the city lights flickered silently outside the window.

Catharine curled up against his side, resting her head comfortably on his chest. Jake wrapped one arm around her waist, his fingers idly tracing patterns against her back as he rested his chin on her head.

"Goodnight, Jake," she whispered, her voice trailing off into sleep.

"Goodnight, Catharine," Jake murmured, kissing the top of her head as he finally let himself rest.

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