IMOGEN'S POV
The sharp scent of lemon mingled with the pungent aroma of garlic, wafting through the kitchen as fresh herbs released their fragrance under the blade of Isaac's knife. We stood shoulder to shoulder, the heat from the stove flushing our cheeks. My chest rose and fell easily, free from the usual tightness that came with maintaining a facade. In this small, cozy space with Isaac, I could finally breathe.
Isaac's eyes flicked towards me, his hands never faltering in their steady rhythm of chopping. "So," he said, his voice low and careful, "what's your strategy for dealing with Elijah when the divorce hits the headlines? Got any skeletons in his closet you could use to your advantage?"
