CHAPTER 89: CHAPTER 89 THE WAY SHE TESTS HIM

Serena’s POV

I’d packed most of my things into two suitcases. No sense staying at Maya’s anymore—I no longer needed to hide from Ryan.

"You sure you’re ready to move back?" Maya asked, helping me with one of my bags. "My door’s always open."

"I’m good," I assured her as we headed downstairs. "Hiding from Ryan was getting exhausting anyway. Besides, I miss my own space."

Maya laughed. "Your ’space’ that you’ve barely lived in for weeks?"

"It’s still mine."

We pushed through the building’s front doors, and I froze. Ryan was standing there, looking unfairly handsome in dark jeans and a navy button-up, holding a bouquet of violets—my favorites.

"What’s he doing here?" Maya whispered.

"No idea," I muttered, my heart doing an annoying little flip.

Ryan approached us with that confident stride that always made heads turn. "Serena," he said, his voice deep and rich. "I thought you might need a ride home."

I raised an eyebrow. "And you just happened to bring flowers?"

"These?" He glanced at the bouquet like he’d forgotten it was there. "Just something I picked up on the way."

Maya snorted beside me. "Right, because everyone casually picks up custom arrangements."

I bit back a smile. "I already have a ride, Ryan."

"Of course," he nodded, then looked at Maya. "Mind if I steal her? I’d like to talk about some... parenting arrangements."

The "parenting" card. Clever. Maya looked at me questioningly, and I shrugged.

"Fine," I sighed dramatically. "I guess you can drive me. He is the babies’ daddy after all," I added to Maya with an exaggerated eye roll.

Maya looked suspicious but helped transfer my bags to Ryan’s car. "Call me later," she ordered, giving Ryan a warning glare that clearly said "hurt her and die."

"You didn’t have to come," I said once we were alone in the car.

"I wanted to." Ryan took both my suitcases like they weighed nothing. "You shouldn’t be lifting heavy things anyway."

I rolled my eyes. "I’m pregnant, not made of glass."

"Humor me."

The drive to my apartment was quiet but not totally uncomfortable. I caught him glancing at my belly several times.

"They’re not going to start kicking while you’re driving," I said dryly.

His lips twitched. "Have you felt them move yet?"

"Little flutters. Nothing dramatic."

"Are you hungry?" he asked .

I was about to say no when my stomach growled loudly. Traitor.

Ryan laughed. "I’ll take that as a yes."

Then Ryan drove us to this little Italian place I’d mentioned loving once.

The fact that he remembered made something warm bloom in my chest, which I promptly squashed down. I wasn’t going to get all gooey just because he had good recall.

The food was amazing—all carbs and cheese, exactly what my pregnant body craved. I moaned slightly around a forkful of lasagna, then caught Ryan staring.

"What?" I asked, mouth half full.

"Nothing," he said, clearing his throat. "Just... glad you’re enjoying it."

After dinner, we headed to my apartment. I hadn’t been there in weeks, and when I opened the door, I grimaced at the thin layer of dust covering everything.

"Well, this is depressing," I muttered, dropping my purse on the counter.

I pulled out my phone, ready to call a cleaning service, when I glanced at Ryan standing awkwardly in my living room. A delicious idea formed in my mind.

"You know," I said slowly, "if you really want to prove how serious you are about making amends..."

Ryan’s eyes narrowed slightly. "What did you have in mind?"

I smiled sweetly and handed him a duster from my hall closet. "My apartment needs cleaning."

His eyebrows shot up. "You want me to clean your apartment?"

"Is that a problem? I mean, I am carrying your children. The least you could do is make sure we have a dust-free environment."

I expected resistance, maybe even that famous Blackwood coldness. Instead, Ryan rolled up his expensive shirt sleeves and took the duster.

"Where do I start?"

For the next two hours, I watched in amazement as Ryan Blackwood—billionaire CEO who probably had never held a mop in his life—cleaned my entire apartment.

He dusted, vacuumed, mopped, and even scrubbed the bathroom tiles. When he asked for specific instructions, I kept adding new tasks, testing his limits.

"The top of the fridge needs wiping too."

"Don’t forget under the couch."

"The windows are looking streaky."

Not once did he complain. In fact, he seemed determined to do everything perfectly, his jaw set in that stubborn way I used to find infuriating but now found oddly endearing.

When he finally finished, his hair was damp with sweat and his expensive shirt had water stains. He looked thoroughly un-CEO-like, and I couldn’t stop staring.

"Here," I handed him a glass of ice water. "You earned it."

He drank it in one long gulp, his throat working in a way that made my mouth go dry.

"Thank you," I said, meaning it. "I didn’t actually expect you to do all that."

"I’d do anything for you, Serena. I think I’ve made that clear."he replied, setting the empty glass down and moving closer to me.

My back hit the wall before I realized I’d been retreating. Ryan placed one hand on the wall beside my head, effectively caging me in.

"Now that I’ve proven my domestic skills," he murmured, his face inches from mine, "what else can I do to impress you?"

His cologne mixed with the scent of cleaning supplies should not have been sexy, but somehow it was. My heart raced as his free hand gently tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Ryan," I breathed, hating how breathless I sounded.

"Yes?" His lips were so close now I could feel his breath on mine.

I should have said stop. Instead, I leaned forward slightly, and that was all the invitation he needed.

His lips touched mine, gentle at first, then hungrier when I didn’t pull away. My hands found their way to his chest, feeling his heartbeat racing beneath my palm. God, I’d missed this—missed him—more than I wanted to admit.

When his hands slid down to my waist, pulling me closer, heat flooded through me. My pregnancy hormones were going wild, and for a moment I seriously considered dragging him to my bedroom.

But then I remembered my promise to myself. No more giving in too easily.

I ducked under his arm and danced away, grabbing his expensive jacket from the chair.

"Thanks for your help," I said brightly, holding the door open. "Really appreciated it. Bye now!"

The confusion on his face was priceless. "Serena, what—"

"It’s getting late," I interrupted, shoving his jacket into his chest. "And pregnant ladies need their rest."

Before he could protest, I practically pushed him through the doorway. As he turned to say something, I smiled sweetly.

"Next time, bring gloves. My oven needs cleaning too."

And with that, I shut the door in his handsome face, leaning against it with a breathless laugh. Through the door, I heard a low chuckle that sent shivers down my spine.

"Sweet dreams, Serena," he called out, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

Damn him. This was supposed to be me getting revenge, not him enjoying it. But as I touched my fingers to my lips, remembering how close he’d been, I couldn’t help but smile too.

Game on, Ryan Blackwood.