“What’s that?” Samantha asked, raising a brow as Drake set a tray of food down on the table. She was curled up on the sofa, lost in her book, when he had suddenly stepped out—only to return with dinner.
“Food.” His response was brief, almost dismissive, as he went straight back to his desk.
She glanced at him, then smiled. He could be so indifferent, yet at times, strangely attentive. “Thank you,” she murmured, eyes drifting to the meal before her.
Drake barely reacted. “I just don’t want to hear your stomach growling.”
Samantha instinctively placed a hand over her belly. Right. She hadn’t eaten properly since the mess in the dining hall earlier.
“If you're going to act all high and mighty, you should train that stomach of yours to stop complaining,” he added, still not looking at her
