Chapter 407 Table Salt

In Cherise’s memory, every detail from the previous day played out like a vivid scene. She couldn’t help but blush, her face resembling a blazing crimson sunset, yet she nodded with a sweet smile and said, “I could use a little something to eat.”

“I’ll make some pasta for you,” the man offered.

He responded with a warm smile and gracefully made room for her. On the bedside table behind. him sat a plate of bolognese meatball pasta.

Cherise gazed at the dish and then back at Damien. “Did you… make this?”

It was evident that this was his first attempt at preparing a meal for her.

“Yes,” he confirmed.

A sheepish chuckle escaped him. “I gave it a try; it might not be as good as your cooking, but it’s

edible.”

in stunned silence. Her eyes widened in disbelief. He… actually

me?

into a life of privilege, had never felt the need to enter the

without a chef. He was the kind of who never went near

person

a deep breath, picked up her fork, and took a bite. It was decent, though it seemed he had forgotten

some salt; it’s a bit bland,” she said, trying

to stop her. “Let me do it.” He double-checked, “You want salt, right?”

man rose from his seat and quickly

with a bottle of table salt and handed it to

her pasta and gave it a stir. However, there was

sweetness to the

small bottle of salt Damien had handed her, and it, too, turned out to be sweet.

couldn’t help but laugh at the

1/2

breath, she got out of bed. “I think I’ll

hand on her

her brow. While his sudden culinary efforts were surprising, he seemed particularly helpful today, and a vague sense of foreboding began to

his

hurried downstairs, wearing

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