CHAPTER 66: CHAPTER 66 HIS JOURNEY TO WIN HER HEART1

Ryan’s POV

I moved into the apartment next to Serena’s today. The idea of being this close to her again made my heart race in a way I hadn’t felt in months.

My assistant Simon had everything arranged perfectly in just one afternoon—furniture delivered, kitchen stocked, even the damn throw pillows color-coordinated.

Not that I cared about any of that. The only thing that mattered was being near her again.

When I heard footsteps in the hallway, I deliberately left my door open. Serena appeared moments later, her eyes widening when she spotted me.

God, even in casual clothes she looked breathtaking. The afternoon light caught in her brown hair, highlighting those golden strands I used to run my fingers through.

"What are you doing here?" Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Please don’t tell me you’re my new neighbor."

I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. "Guilty as charged. Hope you don’t mind."

Taking a few confident strides toward her, I closed the distance between us. The subtle scent of her perfume—jasmine with a hint of vanilla—hit me immediately. It took everything in me not to reach out and touch her.

"Today’s my housewarming," I said casually, as if buying the apartment next to my pregnant ex-wife was the most normal thing in the world. "Would my new neighbor care to join me for dinner?"

"Housewarming?" Serena’s lips twitched like she was fighting back laughter. The sight made my chest tighten—it had been so long since I’d seen her smile because of me.

"Dinner’s already prepared," I continued. "I don’t exactly have a social circle these days. Would you do me the honor?"

Right on cue, the aroma of Chef Milton’s cooking wafted into the hallway. I watched Serena’s expression change as recognition dawned on her face.

Her eyes softened just slightly—a small victory.

"That’s Chef Milton’s cooking, isn’t it?" I said, pressing my advantage. "You haven’t had it in months. I thought you might miss it."

I’d spent hours questioning the mansion staff about Serena’s preferences, determined to get this right.

The chef had been particularly helpful, listing every dish she’d ever enjoyed. Now I watched her resolve crumble exactly as I’d predicted.

"Well," she said with a shrug that was trying too hard to be casual, "since it’s already prepared, it would be wasteful not to eat it."

Then she looked me dead in the eyes, that fiery spirit I’d grown to admire flashing in her expression. "Just so we’re clear—I’m here for the food, not for you. Don’t flatter yourself."

"After you," I gestured toward my open door, fighting to keep my expression neutral while triumph surged through me.

Serena walked in, her eyes scanning my new place with undisguised curiosity.

I watched her take in the minimalist decor, the charcoal gray furniture, the abstract art on the walls—all carefully selected to project sophisticated bachelor rather than desperate ex-husband.

"When did you buy this place?" she asked, running her fingers along the marble countertop.

I shook my head. "I honestly don’t remember. Simon handles those details."

The truth was more complicated. I’d bought several properties in this area as investments years ago. These two adjacent apartments were the only ones I’d kept.

When I’d given Serena one after our marriage, had some part of me always planned to be close to her like this? I couldn’t say for sure, but now I was damn grateful for whatever foresight I’d had.

Serena sat down at the dining table without waiting for an invitation, eyeing the spread Chef Milton had prepared.

Every dish was one of her favorites—the seafood risotto she’d ordered on our third date, the truffle mac and cheese she’d craved during late nights working, the roasted brussels sprouts with balsamic glaze she claimed were the only vegetables worth eating.

Chef Milton emerged from the kitchen, beaming at the sight of her. "Mrs. Blackwood! It’s been too long. No one at the mansion appreciates my cooking the way you did."

Serena smiled warmly at him as she picked up her fork. "I’ll make sure to clean my plate tonight, then."

She started eating with enthusiasm, completely unconcerned with decorum. Halfway through demolishing the risotto, she suddenly looked up.

"Don’t call me Mrs. Blackwood anymore. I’m divorced, remember?"

Milton sighed dramatically. "Mrs. Blackwood—forgive me—but don’t all couples fight? As they say, argue at breakfast, make up by dinner. You two were perfect together. You’ll always be the lady of the Blackwood house to me."

He shot me an obvious look that made me want to groan. Subtle, Milton was not.

"Mr. Blackwood has been absolutely miserable without you," he continued, ignoring my warning glare. "Nobody else sees it, but I do. He hardly eats at home anymore. At least before, he would come home for dinner with you."

Serena swallowed her food and snorted. "That’s because he was out having fun elsewhere. After all, restaurant food must be more appealing than home-cooked meals."

She turned to Milton with a mischievous smile. "It must be exhausting catering to such a demanding boss. When I save up enough money, why don’t you come work for me instead?"

She was poaching my chef right in front of me. The sheer audacity made me want to laugh and scowl simultaneously.

Milton chuckled nervously. "You’re joking, Mrs.—I mean, Ms. Quinn. Working for either of you is still working for the Blackwood empire, isn’t it? It’s all the same."

Serena sampled each dish methodically, obvious pleasure written across her face with every bite. When she finished, she dabbed her mouth with a napkin and turned to the chef.

"That’s where you’re wrong. We’re divorced now. If you became my personal chef, you’d be working next door."

She emphasized the word "divorced" like it was her favorite new vocabulary term.

Poor Milton was sweating bullets. He glanced at me with panic in his eyes. I waved my hand dismissively.

"Make Serena that lung-cleansing soup she likes," I said, giving him an escape route.

"Right away, sir!" He practically sprinted back to the kitchen.

Serena took a long sip of her freshly-squeezed juice, closing her eyes in contentment.

The soft sound of satisfaction she made sent a jolt through me, memories flooding back of other times I’d heard similar sounds from her.

"I’m stuffed," she announced, patting her stomach gently. "Thanks for the meal. And congratulations on your new place, Mr. Blackwood."

She belched softly—deliberately unladylike—then stood up and walked out with the casual confidence of someone who had just successfully dined and dashed.

The door closed behind her before I could even respond.

Milton returned moments later, soup tureen in hand. "Where’s Mrs.—I mean, where is she?"

"Gone home," I said, staring at the closed door. "Your soup took too long."

"Would you like it instead, sir?"

I sighed. "Take it away."

He nodded, starting to gather the dishes to return to the mansion.

"Actually," I said, stopping him, "you’ll be working here from now on. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner—all delivered to Serena."

Milton froze. "I won’t be returning to the mansion?"

"No. I’m staying here for the time being. If the commute is inconvenient, you can have the guest room. Just make sure Serena gets your cooking for every meal."

I leaned forward, fixing him with a serious look. "And remember, Serena is pregnant now. Everything needs to be nutritious. Nothing too spicy or heavy."

Milton’s eyes lit up like Christmas had come early. "She’s pregnant? Oh, that’s wonderful news!"

"Yes," I confirmed, trying not to let my pride show too obviously.

"Sir, if I may," Milton ventured, practically bouncing on his feet, "you should really bring her back to the mansion. Make amends properly. And she shouldn’t be working so much in her condition."

I frowned. "That’s enough commentary from you."

Milton immediately closed his mouth, but the excitement remained in his eyes as he nodded vigorously. "I’ll take care of everything, sir. Mrs.—I mean, Ms. Quinn loves my cooking. She won’t be able to resist."

As I watched him hurry back to the kitchen, I allowed myself to hope for the first time in months. This wasn’t just about the baby anymore. Seeing Serena today, watching her laugh and eat and simply exist in my space again—I wanted her back. All of her.

And I was willing to play the long game to make it happen.