The silence from Denzel's end was beginning to gnaw at Juniper. By the time she stepped out of the office building, evening had fully settled over the city, and the lack of a reply felt like an indictment of her clumsiness.

"I should have just called and explained," she murmured, her thumb hovering over the screen. "It was a mistake."

Sighing, she tucked the phone into her bag and stepped to the curb, determined to hail a taxi and get home to clear her head.

But the city was in the grip of peak rush hour. Every cab that approached was either already occupied or speeding past.

After several futile minutes of flagging down passing cars, she gave up.

She trudged toward the bus station, where a dense crowd of tired commuters already waited. It wasn't ideal, but she resigned herself to the wait; it was the fastest, most reliable way to get home.

Juniper dragged her feet the rest of the way home, fully exhausted. She had made a quick detour at the local fishmonger's to pick up supplies for dinner.

As she turned the corner toward her apartment building, a familiar luxury car parked near the entrance caught her eye. She slowed, squinting through the twilight, and recognized the silhouette leaning against the hood.

"Denzel?" she called out.

He turned, a polite expression forming as he spotted her, and offered a brief wave.

Juniper quickened her pace, the lingering awkwardness of the afternoon pressing on her chest. She knew she had to address it immediately. As she reached him, she didn't wait for pleasantries.

"Denzel, wait," she began, rushing the words. "Please, forgive me for that message earlier. It was a complete accident. My thumb slipped, and I hit the wrong emote. I never intended to send that."

Denzel tilted his head, his demeanor remaining neutral and kind. "It's quite all right, Juniper. I assumed as much."

"Oh. Good." She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

"Actually, that isn't why I'm here," he continued, reaching into his jacket. He pulled out a thick, formal envelope. "Prince Gabriel asked me to deliver this to you personally. That's why I stopped by."

Juniper frowned, her confusion deepening as she stared at the official-looking document in his hand. "What is it?"

"I honestly don't know," Denzel replied, shifting the envelope to her hand.

Juniper gestured toward the building's entrance. "Let's head inside. You haven't eaten, have you? I just picked up some fresh fish from the market, and it would be a shame to cook it for one."

Denzel paused, searching her eyes for any sign of hesitation or politeness. "I don't want to intrude on your evening, Juniper."

"You wouldn't be," she said, offering a warm, genuine smile before turning toward the door. "In fact, I enjoy having you around."

Denzel stood frozen for a second, watching her walk ahead. Her words echoed in his mind, leaving him unsettled. Was that another slip of the tongue? She had been unpredictable lately, saying things that threw him off-balance, words that hovered in that dangerous space between friendly and something much more. He kept his expression neutral and followed her inside.

Once they stepped into the apartment, Juniper gestured toward the living area. "Make yourself comfortable. I'm going to start dinner."

Denzel shook his head, already stepping into the kitchen space. "That won't do. I'm helping tonight. You invite me over enough; I should at least pull my weight."

"You must be exhausted from your day," she countered, trying to steer him back toward the couch.

Denzel gave her a look. "And you aren't?" He unbuttoned his blazer, tossed it onto the sofa, and rolled up his shirt sleeves. "Go freshen up. I'll have the prep work started by the time you're back."

Juniper nodded in acceptance and offered a quiet thanks. She retreated to her bedroom, dropping her bag onto a chair. The moment the door clicked shut, the weight of her earlier slip-up hit her. She pressed her palms to her face.

'I enjoy having you around?' she thought, mortified. 'Seriously? Why can't I just keep my mouth shut?' She gave her lips a light, exasperated tap as if to punish them, pacing the small room in frustration.

"Ugh," she groaned to herself, finally ducking into the bathroom. She splashed cold water over her face and hands, trying to scrub away the embarrassment, before stepping out and heading toward the kitchen.

Denzel was working with the precision of a professional, moving the knife through the fresh fish. Juniper hesitated in the doorway. More than the skill he was displaying, her eyes were drawn to his forearms. They looked strong, veiny, and flexing with every slice.

She swallowed hard, turning her gaze to the counter.

Stop it, she commanded herself.

It wasn't just her; her wolf seemed restless in his presence, drawn to him in a way she couldn't fully explain.

She realized with a sinking, exhilarating feeling that her heart was leaning toward him, day by day, despite all her efforts to keep her distance.

She stepped closer. "What are you actually making?"

Denzel glanced up, meeting her gaze with a soft, knowing smile that made her breath hitch. "You'll know soon enough," he whispered. He gestured toward the counter chair. "Let me cook today. You should sit down and relax."

Juniper perched on the chair, watching his movements. After a moment, she said, "Your mate will be lucky to have you."

"How so?" he asked, his attention still on the pan.

"Whenever she's exhausted, you'll be there to cook," she reasoned. "It's a cliché, but food really is the way to someone's heart."

Denzel turned, his focus shifting entirely to her. "Is that the type of man you prefer?"

"Hmm?" She blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in the conversation. "What do you mean?"

Denzel met her gaze this time. "Do you prefer someone who shares the burden of the kitchen and the home?"

"Yeah," she murmured. "I mean…"

"Do you want to date me then?" Denzel finally asked.