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?

and rejected other food. "Here, you can have this," she said as she put an escargot

the one she put on his plate before the

"Make it fast. Don't

“I know," Irene replied.

brought her to the airport, she linked her arm

you want.” Isaac pretended

to have more business discussions with your pretty

cleared his throat. "Well,

dare." Irene looked up at him, her lips almost on his ear. "Cheat on me,

sideways. "Are you threatening

softly and vibrantly. "Keep your hands to yourself if you don't want

into his arms with one arm

on the ear before pulling away, leaning against the car door

amused.