Page 22 of The Chaos She Brings

My chest aches.When was the last time someone cooked for me?

“You don’t have to do that.” My voice is a little gruff, probably too harsh.

“I want to. Does it matter what I use from the cupboards?”

No point in arguing.

“Use whatever you want.”

I focus back on the screen.

Maybe it’s time to dig a little deeper into Tess’s background. After I brought her back here, I did a quick check on her, but nothing stood out. Now, I’ve got the time to dig deeper, and something tells me there’s more to her story than I’ve uncovered.

An hour later, I’ve learned a few things that only raise more questions. Tessa Sinclair was adopted—nothing too unusual about that. But it was a closed adoption. Whoever was responsible for placing her left no paper trail, no connection to her biological parents. She’s twenty-nine, born July 24th, almost three years younger than me.

She’s got a degree in Psychology, though it doesn’t seem to have translated into much of a career. Instead, she works as a receptionist at Fitness Magic. She moved out of her adoptive parents’ home when she was twenty-one, and by all accounts, doesn’t keep in touch with them much these days.

On the surface, nothing stands out as unusual. Her life, on paper, seems… ordinary.

But then I move on to Jake. That’s where things get complicated. His rap sheet is extensive—theft, assault, battery, drug smuggling. It’s a wonder he managed to stay under the radar for so long. I’m willing to bet that no one’s mourning his loss.

But what if he had ulterior motives for getting close to Tess? What if she wasn’t just a random target? And then… the way he snapped. It doesn’t add up. Something’s missing. And I need to find out what.

“Dinner’s ready!” Tess's sunshine voice pulls me from my thoughts.

Shutting down my computers, I head toward the kitchen—and stop dead in my tracks. It looks like a bomb detonated in the heart of my pristine space. Every pan I own is out, coated in varying shades of sauce or grease. There’s not a single inch of counter untouched, and my eye twitches at the sheer chaos.

My heart rate picks up, thudding in my ears. My hands tremble. Memories threaten to pull me under. My mothers voice in the back of my head screaming at me for leaving a glass out on the worksurface.

But then I see her.

Tess stands at the stove, her back to me, swaying her hips in time with the music blasting from the speaker. It’s Taylor Swift—of course it is, she’s Nate’s double—and she’s singing along, horrendously off-key, with zero shame.

She’s plating up two dishes of risotto, completely unaware of the hurricane she’s left behind.

I should be annoyed. Furious, even. But instead, I find myself just… watching her. The way her hips move to the beat, her teasing sway drawing my attention like a magnet. Her hair’s in a messy bun, exposing the pale curve of her neck. Smooth skin dotted with faint freckles I suddenly want to map with my lips. My thoughts derail further, unbidden and far too vivid. I imagine that same skin reddening under my touch, her cheeks flushed, her body arching beneath me—

No. Stop.

I grit my teeth and push the thoughts down where they belong. This is why I need distance. She’s too tempting. Too disruptive.

Without thinking, I walk up behind her and pluck the plates out of her hands. She shrieks, spinning around with wide eyes and a hand clutching her chest.

“What thefuck,Kai?” she snaps. “What did I say about sneaking up on me!?”

I shrug, carrying the plates to the small dining table tucked in the corner of the kitchen. It’s barely big enough for two, but it does the job. “You called for me,” I say over my shoulder, keeping my tone casual as I slide the plates onto the table and put some much-needed space between us.

Tess follows, sliding into the chair opposite me. Her eyes are locked on me, brows raised, and I can practically feel her expectation hanging in the air.

“What?” I ask.

“Try it!” she demands, practically bouncing in her seat.

“I’m going to.” I take a cautious bite, half-expecting her to have somehow poisoned me by accident.

The moment the flavours hit my tongue, my scepticism dissolves. The rich, creamy blend dances across my taste buds, and before I can stop myself, a low, appreciative groan escapes my throat.

Her eyes light up, equal parts excitement and nervousness. “Well? Do you like it?”