Chapter 95

After giving Theobald a full rundown of Aaron's situation, Marguerite ended the call with a few choice words for her brother and then went to fetch the chef.

Louis, a man with a deep respect for both the art of cooking and the ingredients themselves, had been thinking while he was outside. He looked at Marguerite and said, "How about this, Ms. Lopez: I'll cook the meal, but I'll make it taste different from my usual style. Then we'll say you made it. I promise I won't let it slip.”

Marguerite frowned. "How would that work? George is just putting on a bandage; he'll be down any minute. He'll know."

Louis shook his head. "Lately, the master has been showering and washing his hair the moment he gets home from work. That will take some time. I have all the ingredients prepped; it'll be very quick."

"You stand guard at the door. The second you hear a sound from upstairs, I'll hand you the spatula. It'll be foolproof."

For the sake of George's physical well-being, Marguerite considered it for a few seconds and nodded. "Okay, thank you!"

Louis breathed a sigh of relief. “It's my pleasure.”

Marguerite rarely lied, and now, standing at the kitchen doorway with her ears pricked, her heart was pounding. It felt like cheating on an exam.

Twenty minutes later, she heard footsteps on the stairs.

She nearly jumped out of her skin. "He's coming! He's coming! Code red!"

Louis, who was in the middle of tossing the final dish in a wok, was so startled he nearly sent the whole thing flying. The composure he had cultivated over decades as a master chef almost shattered.

"Okay, okay, come here! Take the spatula, just stir it a few times, and then it's ready. Garnish it with some of these scallions when you plate it.” Louis was just as nervous, this was the first time he had ever deceived his boss.

George, freshly showered and dressed, descended the stairs, his hair still slightly damp. His gaze

immediately fell self on the green sofa in

the living room, but he was surprised to find it empty. Had she gone back to her room?

The housekeeper saw him and beamed. “Sir, Ms. Lopez is in the kitchen."

George's handsome brow furrowed. "What is she doing in the kitchen?"

He walked to the entrance and saw the beautiful girl wearing a black apron—his apron. The ties cinched her slender waist, making it look even more delicate. She was holding a spatula, stirring something in a pan.

George strode over. "Marguerite, what are you doing? Where's the chef?" As he spoke, he gently took the spatula from her hand. "Let me," he said, his voice warm.

The moment

The

drew near,

In

Marguerite's heart leaped into her throat. His fingers brushed against hers, sending a jolt of electricity through her. The kitchen was filled with the heavy aroma of cooking, but all she could smell was the clean, cool scent of the man beside her.

Louis quickly stepped forward, smiling. "Sir, Ms. Lopez cooked all these dishes herself. She spent the whole afternoon learning from me. She wanted to give you a surprise."

George's fingers tightened on the spatula. His warm eyes rested on the girl's face, a damp, feverish excitement swirling in their depths.

Under his intense gaze, Marguerite's face flushed the color of a ripe tomato. “Yes,” she stammered. "I wanted to surprise you."

"What's wrong?" George asked, his voice a carefully controlled murmur of gentleness.