His Private Chef (by Amycee) novel Chapter 81

Chapter 81

288 (Vouchers

And for the first time in forever, I didn’t doubt myself either.

Not when I belonged to Liam Black.

Liam left that morning with one last kiss and a promise that tasted too sweet to doubt

I’ll call the second I land, he’d said, pulling me into his chest like I was the only thing tethering him to earth.

“I hate that I have to leave right now,” he murmured against my hair. “But I need to fix this deal myself. It will only be a few days.”

My fingers brushed his collar as I looked up. “You telling me the big boss couldn’t pull a few strings and skip it?”

He grinned, kissed me again, longer this time. “Text me everything. What you eat, what you wear, what you miss. Especially what you miss.

“So basically… you want to stalk me through your phone.”

“Exactly.”

Then he was gone. A blur of cologne, lingering warmth, and an unspoken goodbye. The house–once filled with laughter, inside jokes, and tangled sheets, felt too quiet. Too hollow Too much like it did before him.

But we kept pace.

He texted like clockwork. I sent him pictures of my breakfast and outfits he’d once half- undressed me from. He called before bed. I fell asleep to the sound of his voice telling me about boardroom battles and hotel food. Woke up to flirty texts, emojis that didn’t match his cold reputation, and one–liners that made my cheeks hurt.

Until today.

Jay had picked me up to review a new contract. A skincare brand wanted me on board. The meeting was smooth, professional Almost normal.

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Until the cameras returned like a migraine.

They were camped outside the building, practically glued to the sidewalks.

“You’re officially famous,” Jay said as he slid into the backseat beside me. “I might need pepper spray just to walk near you.”

“Please,” I said, nudging him playfully. “You’re the one with your face on billboards and chart–topping singles. If anyone needs pepper spray, it’s me, just to survive your fan club.

Jay smirked, resting an arm on the seat. “You’re almost there.”

”

By the time we pulled into the driveway, I was running on espresso and stress. I kicked off my heels the second I stepped inside and collapsed onto the couch, digging into my bag for my phone, ready to update Liam like I always did.

That’s when I saw it.

A headline.

LIAM BLACK SPOTTED IN MONACO WITH CASSIE SCOTT. TROUBLE IN

PARADISE?

Cassie Scott.

I didn’t recognize the name. Not until I clicked.

Photos loaded like poison.

Liam. Her. Walking out of a private yacht club.

She was tall, blonde, the kind of beautiful that’s born into bloodlines and trust funds. The kind tabloids paired with phrases like “Black’s type.”

My stomach knotted.

I texted him. Fingers shaking.

Emily: Who the hell is Cassie?

No reply.

Emily: Liam?

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Still nothing.

I called. Straight to voicemail.

That was the moment I realized, I wasn’t breathing. I was just… waiting. For an explanation. For the Liam I knew to break through the static. For this to be a mistake I could laugh off in ten minutes.

But ten minutes passed.

Then thirty.

Then an hour.

Silence.

I stared at my phone until my eyes stung, confusion splintering into something darker.

We had just made it official.

So why did it feel like I was reading the obituary of something we hadn’t even finished building?

Jay had already driven off. I could’ve called him back. I didn’t.

I didn’t want to talk to anyone.

Didn’t want comfort. I just wanted answers.

And then my screen lit up again.

Kelvin: Heard you had a rough day. Dinner?

I stared at the message, biting the inside of my cheek.

I knew better.

Liam would lose his mind. I could already hear his voice, feel the fight that would follow.

But Liam was unreachable.

Liam was in Monaco. He was silent.

So I typed back.

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Chapter 81

Emily: Sure.

282 Mother

The restaurant was candlelit, curated, and crawling with paparazzi. Kelvin had booked us a corner booth with privacy, but the flashes still found us through the windows.

He ordered wine I didn’t drink and made jokes I barely heard.

“Still thinking about the headline?” he asked gently, reaching for his glass.

“I’m trying not to.”

Kelvin didn’t push. Just let the silence sit, filling it with stories about his latest business ventures, passive–aggressive shade at Liam, and talk of yachts I couldn’t care less about.

I barely touched my food.

When the bill came, I thanked him with a nod and got in the car before he could walk me inside.

The moment I stepped into the house, my phone buzzed.

Liam: Are you kidding me?

No greeting. No explanation. Just accusation.