Mr Billionaire's Regret Chasing His Irresistible Wife (Jared and Arielle) novel Chapter 149

(ARIELLE'S POV)

Exhausted from the day’s chaos, I pushed open the front door, desperate for the comfort of solitude. Between the rival restaurant’s sabotage and Stephen and Rebecca’s antics, my nerves were frayed. All I wanted was to collapse in peace.

But the sight that greeted me was nothing short of surreal.

The space has been transformed to a cozy haven. The fireplace that was barely in use now crackled with fire, casting a warm and comfortable glow over the room. The dogs, looking freshly bathed and groomed, lay by the fire, looking content.

As if that was not enough, a nice smelling aroma of food sailed into my nose. Nose flared, I traced its source to the kitchen. Once again, I was thrown off balance by the sight before me.

Jared and Maverick, moving around the kitchen in what looked like a team effort to prepare dinner. Jared, effortlessly cool as always, flipped a steak with the precision of someone who’d been doing this for years—except I knew better. Meanwhile, Maverick, spatula in hand, looked up as I entered, his face lighting up.

“Mommy! Welcome back!” he exclaimed, his excitement contagious.

“Hey, Arielle,” Jared greeted, as if it were perfectly normal for him to be in my kitchen, cooking dinner with our son.

I blinked, trying to process the scene. “What’s… going on here?”

“Daddy wanted to surprise you with dinner!” Maverick announced proudly.

I glanced between the two of them, emotions swirling. Gratitude, unease, and more than a little suspicion. Why was Jared being so.... domestic? He hated cooking when we were married unless he’d royally screwed up and needed to apologize. This sudden display of domesticity set off every alarm bell in my head.

And if he thought he could impress me with these, he was definitely wrong.

“Thanks,” I managed, keeping my tone casual. “It smells amazing in here.”

Maverick grinned, his face glowing with pride. “We did it, Daddy!” He raised his hand for a high five.

Jared obliged with a smirk. “We sure did, partner.”

And then he turned to me, his expression softening, "You look stressed, more stressed than I have seen you in a long time. Why don't you take a bath? We got the hot tub for you. While you relax, we'd set the table," he said, looking at me with concerned eyes.

I looked at him, stunned. Part of me wanted to snap and demand to know what he was up to, but the weight of the day had worn down my defenses. Against my better judgment, I nodded.

“Alright,” I muttered, retreating to my bedroom.

When I entered the bathroom, I froze. The tub was filled with steaming water, the surface flecked with lavender leaves and glistening with scented oil. My heart clenched. He remembered my love for lavender.

I shut my eyes, willing the warmth creeping into my chest to go away.

It was not right.

None of these was.

I felt like I was walking into a carefully constructed trap, designed to make me feel comfortable and at ease.

And I was not supposed to be feeling any of that, not with Jared in my house.

That decided, I stormed back into the kitchen, ready to give Jared a piece of my mind. But as I entered, I was met with Maverick's eager face.

"Mommy, did you like your bath?" He asked, his eyes glittering expectantly.

Maverick murmured with a sigh, “I made that, Mommy...”

The three of us sat in silence, an awkwardness settling over the room.

Well, perhaps Maverick was too young to feel the weight of it. Instead, he tilted his head and asked cautiously, “But… does it really taste good?”

I raised an eyebrow in surprise, then broke into a grin. “Of course, Chef Maverick! In fact, your culinary skills might already surpass your dad’s—and you’re not even four yet,” I said, sending a pointed look at Jared.

Jared chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “What can I say?”

I couldn’t resist holding his gaze, my tone laced with subtle sarcasm. “Well, it seems your cooking hasn’t improved much since three years ago.”

Jared’s smile faltered slightly, but I wasn’t done.

“Or even six years ago… before we got married. Do you remember? You once flew in from Germany and came to the restaurant where I worked, just to buy my soup for Nana Jean, and…”

Those words slipped out before I could stop them. I froze and shut my mouth immediately.

A wave of regret washed over me, as I silently berated myself for letting my guard down.

Jared’s expression shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied me intently, searching for something I wasn’t ready to share. Meanwhile, Maverick, oblivious to the tension, glanced between us with wide, curious eyes.

I avoided Jared’s gaze, quickly breaking eye contact. Without another word, I turned my attention back to my plate, stabbing a piece of steak with my fork as if it could distract me from the storm brewing in my chest.

Why had I brought that up? Why now?