Ch. 102 – Really About to Cook Now!

Now why would she get me yellow roses specifically? I don’t even like yellow, Rhys thought grumpily, his mind racing as he hung suspended in Seraphina's arms high above the clouds.

To buy himself a shred of leverage, he had somehow managed to maneuver the two women away from his front porch, temporarily deflecting their ambush. Shula and Seraphina had arrived at his house with a singular, absurdly straightforward mission: to corner him into handing over his "BABY BATTER" to Seraphina. Under the flimsy guise of offering him a ride to the cliffside venue, they had tried to press their demands. Putting the cold mask of Omen firmly in place, Rhys had agreed that he and Seraphina could talk about the arrangement privately on the way over—a proposition the fallen angel had jumped at, convinced it was the start of an intimate rendezvous.

She had scooped Rhys up into her arms, launching them both into the pre-dawn sky.

While they didn't have to speak over the roaring wind, Rhys couldn't stop himself from squirming against her chest. Seraphina held him far too tightly, her smooth hands constantly roving over his body, feeling his muscles, her breath growing hotter against his neck. The dynamic was wildly different from the last time she had flown him anywhere; she was bolder now, radiating a hungry, dangerous confidence born from the memory of their past carnal encounter on the roof.

Damn... I kinda did this to myself, Rhys admitted to himself frankly. I was the one who completely lost control on that roof that night. He paused, his internal ego reflexively kicking in to defend his honor: Then again, I was literally 'wing-napped' up there by her in the first place.

As the sky began to bleed into the warm hues of sunrise, the breathtaking cliffside venue finally crested the horizon over the rushing waterfall. The sight of his grand opening location was a welcome distraction, almost pulling his focus away from Seraphina’s hand currently creeping down toward his waistline.

Hovering just above the canopy of trees, Seraphina had gotten entirely too excited. A hot, ragged breath washed over Rhys's ear as her deft, soft fingers snaked under his clothes, expertly grasping his groin. Her movements were frantic, smooth, and shockingly practiced. Rhys gritted his teeth, a strange, electric jolt of excitement surging through his nervous system despite himself. He kept his eyes locked on the approaching venue, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a verbal reaction while her tongue lapped up the side of his neck and earlobe.

You better not crash us into the rocks, woman, Rhys thought, his jaw clenched tight.

He stayed silent, enduring the barrage until her dark wings finally swept backward to kill their momentum. Seraphina touched them down softly onto the manicured grass of the venue, her hands still expertly feeling him up through his jeans until the very last second.

The exact instant his boots hit solid ground, Rhys aggressively yanked himself backward out of her grip. His face darkened into a cold, terrifying mask of absolute authority.

"That will never happen again," he barked, his voice laced with venom.

Seraphina seemed entirely deaf to the warning. With a sultry, slow motion, she lifted her fingers to her lips, casually licking off a stray drop of Rhys’s pre-ejaculate with a low hum. "I'm sorry, my love... but I couldn't help myself after being starved for so long," she purred, her glowing eyes locked onto his.

"I don't have time for this," Rhys snapped, turning his back on her and striding toward the grand double doors of the estate to inspect the layout.

Seraphina immediately fell into step behind him like a devoted shade. Rhys did his absolute best to ignore her presence as he paced through the cavernous reception hall, mentally mapping out table placements, service stations, and the flow of foot traffic. But as her soft, lingering voice continued to chatter in the background, a specific string of words filtered through his concentration, instantly halting him in his tracks.

Rhys whipped around. "Wait... say that one more time," he blurted out, his voice dangerous.

Seraphina paused, tilting her head innocently. "I just said our love came to light with zero issues! I told Ging everything."

The air in the grand hall literally pulsed. A sudden shockwave of latent divine energy rippled outward from Rhys's core, his heart hammering against his ribs like a war drum as his power spiked in sheer disbelief.

"Please... please tell me you are not that stupid," Rhys hissed with pure, unadulterated malice, the harsh words spewing out from behind his cold mask.

Seraphina visibly shrank under the force of his aura, her massive, glorious wings drooping toward the floorboards. "I... I don't understand why you're speaking to me like that," she murmured softly, a touch of defensive hurt creeping into her tone. "You were the one who explicitly told Ging to 'ask his wife'!"

He wasn't ACTUALLY supposed to ask you! It was a brush-off! Rhys screamed violently inside his own skull.

The man just couldn't help himself, could he? the shadowy figure of Omen chimed in from the edge of his mind, practically purring with dark amusement.

Rhys raised two fingers to the bridge of his nose, pinching tightly as he forced himself to process the absolute trainwreck unfolding before him. I've seen this pony show before, he told himself, taking a slow, calculated breath.

"What exactly did you say to him?" Rhys asked, his tone terrifyingly quiet.

Seraphina laid out the entire gruesome truth without a shred of shame. She explained how Ging had come to her, brimming with naive curiosity about the kitchen conversation, and how she had taken the opportunity to lay everything bare. She told her husband in excruciating detail that their marriage was fundamentally broken, that she desperately wanted a child, and that it clearly wasn't going to happen with him.

Right on cue, the sleek, floating shape of Shula’s magic car pulled up to the loading dock outside, carrying the rest of the cooking equipment and event supplies.

Fantastic timing, Rhys thought with searing sarcasm.

Seraphina had trailed off as Shula stepped into the hall, surrounded by a dozen magical clones hauling heavy crates of produce and stainless-steel pans.

"Continue your story," Rhys commanded cold-bloodedly, ignoring Shula's entrance entirely.

Seraphina turned back to Rhys, continuing blithely. She admitted that Ging had initially thrown a massive, furious fit, but boasted that she had smoothly "talked him down."

In his mind, the dark alter-ego was practically doing backflips of sinister joy at the absolute destruction of Ging's dignity. Rhys, however, felt a deep, sickening pit open in his stomach. He knew there was more.

Seraphina went on to reveal the ultimate ultimatum she had laid down for her husband: she and Ging were officially no longer sleeping together, and moving forward, they would strictly be looking for a third-party donor to father her child.

Rhys’s jaw literally went slack behind his mask. "And... he just accepted that?" he asked aloud, utterly baffled by the sheer absurdity of it.

Seraphina’s lips curved into a broad, triumphant smile. "He sure did!" she chirped proudly.

I cannot believe this chick, Rhys thought, staring at her in horror. I wouldn't wish a fate like this on my absolute worst enemy.

The absolute worst part of the entire exchange was her face. Rhys searched her eyes for a single flicker of remorse, guilt, or embarrassment—and found nothing but absolute, psychotic devotion to her own desires.

Rhys shook his head in disgust, stepping back. "Well, you better start looking for another donor then, because I am not doing it."

The flat rejection hit her like a harmless breeze bouncing off a massive brick wall. Seraphina’s smile somehow grew even broader, her eyes flashing with dangerous, unyielding certainty. She glided forward, closing the distance until her lips were mere inches from his ear.

"I've already made my sacred promise to only you, Rhys..." she whispered, her hot breath fanning against his skin. "And I won't ever break it."

Rhys set his jaw, staring right through her. "I need to start getting the venue ready for the event," he said sternly, cutting the conversation dead.

Seraphina slowly slid her voluptuous body past his, her hip brushing against his thighs as she purred, "By all means... Omen."

Rhys didn't react to the hero moniker being thrown at his head like a weapon. Honestly, in this dark, twisted maze of unhinged housewives and marital landmines, the moniker felt entirely appropriate again.

Leaving the women in the main hall, Rhys turned on his heel and walked straight into the back commercial kitchen. He stepped across the threshold, flipping on the overhead industrial lights, and took in the massive stainless-steel countertops, high-end gas burners, and pristine prep stations.

The chaotic mess of his personal life faded into the background as the chef inside him took control.

Rhys cracked his knuckles, a broad, genuinely confident smile breaking across his face for the first time all morning.

"Oh, yeah..." he muttered to himself, grabbing an apron off the rack. "I'm really about to cook now!"