The clinking of utensils echoed gently in the grand kitchen as Erin stirred the creamy mushroom sauce simmering on the stovetop. The aroma of garlic and herbs wafted around her, but her thoughts weren't on the food. She leaned over the pan, mechanically reaching for the seasoning without really seeing it. Her mind was far, far away—drifting back to that moment when Xander leaned in after the dance and said, "I'll tell you my wish later tonight."
She hadn't been able to think straight since.
Her leg had fully healed, which meant she was back to preparing meals—an expectation Xander himself had voiced clearly. It wasn't technically in her job description. His parents had hired her for one thing only: to keep an eye on the arrogant heir. No chores, no duties, no cooking. But ever since he'd started commanding instead of ignoring, she'd started complying—unconsciously, even willingly.
And now, here she was, humming softly under her breath, trying not to get too caught up in imagining what this wish might be.
The worst part?
She was excited. More than she wanted to admit.
"It's probably something simple," she murmured to herself, plating the grilled salmon and asparagus. "Like… asking me to mop the floor with a toothbrush or something ridiculous."
But she knew better. This was Xander. The same man who turned teasing into an art form and liked watching her squirm just a little more than he liked winning an argument.
And yet… a tiny voice whispered in the back of her mind.
What if he asks for a kiss?
Erin's hand stilled halfway through wiping the rim of the plate. A kiss. Why had that been her first assumption? Why did the thought send a ripple of heat down her spine?
She shook her head, muttering, "No, no, that's not it. Get a grip, Celeste."
She carried the plates into the dining room where the lights were dimmed low, casting warm shadows across the sleek wooden table. Xander was already seated, legs crossed lazily, elbows on the armrest of the chair like a king awaiting his feast.
He looked up when she entered, eyes scanning her face like he was reading a page only he could decipher.
"Smells good," he said, gesturing toward the empty seat across from him. "You've outdone yourself tonight, maid."
Erin rolled her eyes but sat down quietly.
Dinner passed in mostly silence—at first. Erin was unusually quiet, her mind constantly bouncing between possibilities of what Xander might demand. A kiss? A truth? A secret? Something worse?
He noticed, of course.
"You look like you're going to combust," he said casually, chewing on a bite of asparagus.
She set her fork down, eyes narrowing.
"Just tell me what it is already."
Xander's lips twitched. "Curious much?"
"I'm serious, Xander. You've been holding it over my head since this morning. Enough suspense."
He leaned forward, resting his chin on one hand. "Okay, okay. You want to know what I want?"
She straightened. "Yes."
He leaned in, his voice dropping an octave. "I want you… to clean my shoes with your tears."
Erin blinked. "What?"
Xander burst out laughing.
"I'm kidding. You should've seen your face."
She groaned and looked away. "You're impossible."
"No, no, I have another one." He cleared his throat dramatically. "My wish is… for you to braid my hair every morning for a week while singing love songs."
Erin squinted at him. "You're making this up as you go."
"Am I?" he said innocently. "Because that sounds like a dream."
"You're such a child."
"And yet you still cook for me."
Erin opened her mouth to retort but paused when she caught the way his smile slowly faded. He tapped his fingers lightly on the table, expression shifting from playful to contemplative.
"Why are you taking it so seriously?" he asked.
Her heart thudded.
She met his gaze and answered honestly, "Because there are so many possibilities. And I can't help but wonder."
Something flickered in his eyes—something quiet and unreadable.
"It would be nice," he said slowly, "if you were this honest with me all the time."
Erin stiffened. The air between them shifted.
"You're always hiding something," he added, his voice softer now. "Like I'm only seeing the surface."
For a second, Erin couldn't breathe. The words hit closer than they should have.
And then… she saw it. Something behind his gaze. A shadow. Vulnerability? No, that couldn't be it. She brushed it off. She was probably just reading into things again.
They finished dinner in relative silence.
The walk back to their shared room was quiet. Erin kept stealing glances at him from the corner of her eye. He looked calm. Unbothered. Like the conversation over dinner hadn't even affected him.
But she couldn't shake the way his tone had changed when he said she wasn't honest with him.
Once inside the room, Erin moved toward the bed. She sat down, crossing her arms and staring at him expectantly.
"Well?" she asked.
Xander leaned against the wall, watching her.
"You're really dying to know?"
"Yes."
He nodded once.
"Okay then."
He pushed off the wall and walked toward her, slow and casual.
"My wish is simple," he said, stopping in front of her.
Erin swallowed.
"No lies," he said. "For the next three days."
Her lips parted.
"That's it?"
"That's it."
She stared at him, waiting for the punchline. For the smirk. For some dramatic 'gotcha.' But it never came.
Xander just looked at her. Steady. Serious.
"You don't have to tell me your secrets," he added, almost as if he were offering her a lifeline. "Just… don't lie. Even if you stay silent, fine. But don't lie to me."
Erin didn't know what to say.
Because of all the things he could've asked for, this was what he wanted?
She opened her mouth. Then closed it.
His voice dropped to a murmur. "Can you do that?"
Her heart thundered.
She nodded.
"Yes."
And for some reason, that single word felt heavier than any secret she'd ever kept.