Chapter 25

Caught off guard by Samuel's suggestive remarks, Layla instantly blushed.

She thought angrily, 'He's so wicked, twisting everything I said into something else. Does he even realize that there are so many people around us now?'

"Dylan, do we have any leftovers from last night?" Layla asked.

"We only have fresh food; we never keep leftovers," Dylan replied. Samuel rarely ate at home and never notified him in advance. But dinner was always prepared every evening, most of which ended up wasted.

"But you have spaghetti, right?" Layla sighed.

"We do," Dylan replied. Actually, there were many kinds of fresh vegetables in the fridge. However, Dylan didn't mention it as Samuel probably wanted to have something prepared by Layla herself.

"What about tomatoes?" Layla asked again.

"Mr. Holland doesn't eat tomatoes," Dylan replied with a gentle smile.

"I can try it," Samuel suddenly interrupted, surprising Dylan.

To Dylan's knowledge, Samuel would never touch anything he disliked.

"Tomatoes are so delicious. How can someone hate them? Being picky will make you ugly," Layla lectured Samuel.

"You think I'm ugly?" Samuel looked at her.

"Average, I'd say," Layla replied against her conscience. Then, she tied her hair in a ponytail and walked into the kitchen, taking two tomatoes and two eggs from the refrigerator.

She cut the fresh tomatoes into round slices and tasted one. It was sweet.

Samuel crossed his arms and stood at the kitchen doorway, watching her. For him, just standing there quietly and doing nothing was rare.

"Ms. Adkins is quite lovely," Dylan praised. There were many noble ladies around Samuel, but Layla stood out. She could cook and had a good personality. Dylan was somehow not surprised to see Samuel treat her differently.

"She's not bad," Samuel remarked. But in his heart, he thought, 'Because she's my woman.'

While mixing the tomato sauce with the spaghetti in the pan, Layla skillfully flipped the spatula. She looked small and slender, but she could manage the heavy pan effortlessly.

"I didn't expect Ms. Adkins to be so strong," Dylan exclaimed.

"She practices martial arts," Samuel explained and added in his heart, 'But she can't beat me.'

In less than fifteen minutes, a large plate of spaghetti with tomatoes and eggs was served. The tomatoes were red, the eggs golden, and the spaghetti looked delicious, tantalizing the taste buds.

Smelling the delicious aroma, Samuel started to feel hungry.

"Dylan, why don't you join us?" Layla warmly invited Dylan.

'Me? Oh, what a thoughtful young lady! Well, unlike her, those other young ladies are usually more self-centered.' Dylan felt warm in his heart. But he politely refused, "Thank you, Ms. Adkins. But I've already had dinner."

"Come on. Just try some. I prepared your portion," Layla said.

"It's fine. Join us." Samuel spoke, and Dylan nodded.

Using the fork, Layla sent a large roll of spaghetti into her mouth. It was good, maintaining her consistent level of culinary proficiency, and the taste was excellent.

"How's it?" she asked the other two.

"Delicious." Dylan gave a thumbs up.

Samuel elegantly took a bite, chewing carefully. The sweet and sour taste filled his mouth, which surprised him. This spaghetti could be considered a five-star standard, and more importantly, he tasted the flavor of home.

Aside from his mother, Layla was the first woman to cook for him.

The last time his mother cooked for him was over a decade ago. Unfortunately, she had passed...

Samuel felt a hidden pain in his heart.

"Is it tasty?" Layla lightly nudged him with her elbow.

"Not bad." Samuel snapped out of his thoughts.

"It would taste even better if we used leftovers. Don't underestimate it. The simpler the ingredient is, the more it tests the chef's skills. If I quit being a designer, I'll definitely open a small restaurant, and it'll definitely be packed," Layla said as she took another big bite.

"Ms. Adkins, you're really amazing. Nowadays, not many girls like to cook," Dylan praised.

"Really? Well, I think cooking is a form of relaxation." Layla licked her lips.

She had fantasized before that after marrying Vincent, she would cook and wash dishes while he ate and praised her. At that time, Vincent teased her, saying that she would fatten him up to 200 pounds.

Layla smiled bitterly, sighing in her heart, 'Sometimes, people can be foolish.' Even though she knew Vincent was a scumbag, the sweet memories of the past still floated in her mind. The sweeter it was in the past, the more bitter it was now.

"Chew your food. Stop thinking about something else." Samuel pinched her chin and solemnly looked into her eyes.

Layla felt a twinge of guilt. Just a second after losing focus, she was caught off guard by him.

Panicking, she said, "I wasn't thinking about anything. I'll make a feast for you another day. What do you say?"

"No need to wait. Tomorrow night will do," Samuel replied.

Upon hearing this, Layla regretted saying that. She murmured, "I might have to work late tomorrow night."

"You worked late tonight, yet you still made spaghetti for me. Good things are worth the wait," Samuel said with a meaningful glance and a flicker of fire in his eyes, causing Layla to lower her head.

He had beautiful eyes, with long eyelashes that enhanced their deep, dark color, seemingly possessing a magical power that prevented her from maintaining eye contact.

After finishing the meal, Layla intended to wash the dishes, but Dylan assigned the task to the maid.

"Well, then I'll head back," Layla said.

"Stay here tonight." Samuel stopped her.

"No. I only promised to cook for you, not to stay over," Layla refused.

Samuel's three fingers landed on his black necktie knot, leisurely pulling it loose, his movement filled with sensuality and laziness. His clear Adam's apple emitted the charm of a mature man. "It's late, and I don't wanna drive you back."

"I never asked you to. I'll go back on my own," Layla replied.

"The bus stop at the foot of the mountain is at least an hour's walk from here," Samuel said lightly.

Layla frowned, wondering why he lived in such a high place. He had a driver, but she didn't, nor did she have a car.

Considering it was unsafe for a girl like her to walk alone at night, she said, "Then get a driver to send me back."

"The driver has gone off work."

Layla got a little angry. "Don't fool me. Although I don't have a driver, I've seen on TV that dedicated drivers are always on standby."

"There's a difference between having a driver and me arranging for one to drive you."

"So you won't send me home anyway?" Layla frowned.

Samuel turned to look at her, his eyes unusually deep and dark. "Exactly."

Layla felt defeated. She was truly foolish to think that cooking a meal for Samuel was as simple as it seemed. But the truth was not. After all, it cost him 16 thousand dollars.

"This isn't your first time staying over here, so what's there to worry about?" Samuel's voice turned slightly cold as he remembered that he hadn't done anything to her last night.

But Layla was indeed worried, asking, "What if you suddenly turn beastly and knock on my door in the middle of the night?"

A smirk that seemed like a smile appeared on Samuel's face. "I wouldn't do that, but you might."

Rolling her eyes, Layla scoffed, "Me? Knock on your door? I'd rather kill myself."

Samuel gave her a look that said, "We'll see." and then chuckled before going upstairs.

The answer would show itself tonight.