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?

rejected other food. "Here, you can have this," she said as she put an escargot on Isaac's

on his plate before the others. Sheryl sighed, speechless that Irene was leaving

"Make

“I know," Irene replied.

linked her arm around

long as you want.” Isaac pretended to

more business discussions with your

throat. "Well, work

up at him, her lips almost on his ear. "Cheat on me, and I'll get

at her sideways. "Are you

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

with one arm and tousled her

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

once exasperated and amused.