The Runaway Groom

"Okay," Isaac answered softly.

They arrived outside a nice restaurant, and he threw the car keys to the valet as soon as he alighted before heading inside with an arm around Irene.

It was a Franconian restaurant with local specialties: beef bourguignon, foie gras, escargot, and the like.

However, Irene preferred Zidonian food—there were not that many foreign dishes that suited her palate.

Naturally, Isaac could tell that she did not like it. "I'll take you to a Zidonian restaurant next time."

"Good," Irene replied. "Our country's food is more to my taste."

Isaac raised a brow. "Our country's food is special in its way, but you should learn to accept different flavors too. It's a bad habit to be picky." "Am I being picky?" Irene asked.

"Yes."

Irene was speechless—how was she being picky? Just because she was not used to foreign food?

was just that her stomach was Zidonian and rejected other food. "Here, you can have this," she said as she put

ate the one she put on his plate before

and told Irene, "Make

“I know," Irene replied.

to the airport, she linked her

long as you want.” Isaac

have more business discussions

cleared his throat. "Well, work depends on

up at him, her lips almost on his

sideways.

yourself if you don't want me to cheat

one arm and tousled her hair. "When did you grow

claws. Didn't you know?" Irene said, gently biting him on the ear before pulling away, leaning against the car door and staying

and amused. "Does teasing