I sat silently at the dining area, my seat opposite to his. Food was served on the table that was delivered by his men. I can't look into his eyes but I still made sure that he would know that any of his opinions won't matter.
"Aren't you gonna eat?" I raised a brow.
He clenched his jaw and glared at me darkly. I just rolled my eyes and grabbed every food that I could eat. Just like the first time we ate dinner. I acted like I hadn't eaten for years and didn't know table manners, because he hates that. And I love things that he hates, no scratch that. I love seeing him hate and fuming mad.
The last thing I ate was the crème brulée . And in my last bite, I looked at him sensually, licking the spoon.
His neck is getting red, a sign of his restraint of emotion. He's just watchin
