46
693 Words
Despite his rare use of the private kitchen, Nanny White ensured the fridge was stocked daily with fresh ingredients, just in case the master of the house felt inspired.
Now, Xavier realized he had inadvertently discovered a new chef with considerable potential.
He glanced at the steaming bowl of noodles, his dark brows knitting together in a sharp line. "I don't eat cilantro."
"Oh, really? Let me pick that out for you."
Chloe immediately picked up her chopsticks, tending to the "Master of the House" with meticulous care. She leaned in close, focused on fishing out every tiny green leaf from the broth.
From this distance, Xavier studied her. Her brows were dark and well-defined, her eyes large and clear, and her lips possessed a natural, healthy flush. Her skin was like fine white porcelain—smooth, translucent, and glowing with a faint rosiness.
He recalled her earlier boast about her complexion. No wonder she’s so confident, he thought with a cold internal smirk. No amount of expensive skincare could manufacture skin that looks like a baby’s. It was a rare trait in an adult, and he had to admit she had the capital to be proud.
As for her looks... his gaze flickered over her lips. Passable, he decided.
"There," Chloe said, having cleared the noodles of even the smallest trace of green. "All gone."
Xavier took a bite without a word. His expression remained an unreadable mask. "Did you make this yourself?"
Chloe nodded tentatively. "Is it not to your taste?"
Xavier didn't answer immediately. He took a few more bites, the savory beef and perfectly timed eggs hitting the mark. Finally, he spoke. "From now on, you will handle the meals for Liam Jr. and me."
"Huh?"
Xavier’s brow arched dangerously. "Is this not part of your duty as a wife? Or are you unwilling?"
Chloe shook her head rapidly, then nodded just as fast. "No, I’m very willing! I just didn't expect you to have such a high opinion of my cooking."
She knew exactly where this was going. If she hesitated, the next words out of his mouth would be: If you're unwilling, then get out.
Truthfully, knowing he liked her cooking made her feel a strange sense of accomplishment. When you're living under someone else's roof, every skill is a layer of job security. She decided right then to "conquer his stomach." If he came to rely on her cooking, he might think twice before threatening to kick her out every five minutes. It was a tactical move to make her presence indispensable—or at least, less annoying.
Chloe immediately found a pen and paper. "Can you tell me more about your and Liam Jr.'s preferences?"
Xavier watched her serious demeanor, his long fingers tapping a rhythmic beat on the table as he elegantly finished the rest of the noodles. When the bowl was empty, Chloe proactively handed him a crisp white napkin.
He gave her a cool, sideways glance, wiped his mouth and hands with calculated slowness, and began his list. "I don't eat cilantro, leeks, celery, pickles, eggplant, bitter melon, onions, carrots..."
Chloe scribbled furiously. This man wasn't just a picky eater; he was a culinary minefield. She had filled half a page before he finally stopped.
"And Liam Jr.?" she asked, hoping the boy hadn't inherited his father's impossible palate.
Xavier didn't answer at first. When Chloe looked up, she found him staring at her with an expression that said the answer was obvious. "If there's something he won't eat, you make him eat it. Otherwise, what did I marry you for?"
Chloe: "..."
So, the King can set the forest on fire, but the commoners aren't allowed to light a lamp? The hypocrisy was staggering. It looked like her job description had just been upgraded to "Master Negotiator of the Dinner Table."
"Is there anything you do like?"
Xavier’s gaze dropped to Chloe’s lips. He answered with a single word: "Meat."
When Chloe finally left the study, she was carrying the leather-bound notebook and several thick volumes on child psychology. Xavier had given her exactly ten days to finish reading them all.
- Writer
