CHAPTER 54

Lisa's POV

I immediately move away as his body continues to press up against mine.

The lack of his body touching mine quickly sends a chill down my spine.

What just happened? I know I'm delighted about the prospect of visiting Verona and having Damien pay for my travel expenses, so why did I approach him in such a rude manner?

Will he have the incorrect impression of me? Why even is he acting this way?

Even though I've known he's been friendly to me for a week, I don't think it should be more than that because of his illness and the way I've been helping him recover.

Who will look after him if I don't? I mean, I am his wife.

I spit out my throat and tuck the hair behind my ears that has fallen on my face. I inquire after taking a swallow. Asking "Why are you doing this?"

"What?" The question causes confusion to glide over his face.

Why would you want to fund my travel to Italy? I re-ask, and he grinned. A grin that disturbs my own peace.

He has been grinning a lot lately, but this one seems diffe

I resist the need to inquire as to why his grin is differ bkent. You weren't even interested in taking me on that vacation when I last checked, and now you want me to go without asking? Is this a bribe of any kind?

"What?" He laughs and takes a proper seat. "Don't laugh at me."

I turn to face him and say, "I can't help it. Is this something you're doing to stop me from leaving as I said I would the other day, or is it just because I've been trying to be kind to you?

Do you still have any lingering thoughts about leaving? The gorgeous man's grin is replaced with a profound scowl.

Well, no, but...

Nothing but. You merit it, therefore that's why I'm doing this. He says firmly and gravely, "This is what you want and I should do anything you want since you are my wife.

"Yes, I guess. It's true, but our marriage is only legal.

He suddenly stands up and interrupts me. "I don't contest that fact. He says, "I should cook something because I'm hungry," and I get up to follow him.

"You're a good cook?" As we go into the kitchen on the hardwood floor, I question him from behind.

He responds, "Yes, I do that whenever I come here", as I move quickly to block him from entering the kitchen further.

He raises an eyebrow as I extend out my arms to stop him.

I promise to cook today. Although I want to prepare today, I'm incredibly interested to taste your dish. The cooking can wait till tomorrow.

He slowly extends his hand in resignation. "All well, I'll simply return inside and wait for you. Cooking stuff quickly. Right now, I could devour a horse.

I sarcastically retort, "A horse you would eat," and I hear his laughter echo as he leaves the kitchen.

I go to the refrigerator after he has left the kitchen to see what ingredients he has that I can utilize to prepare something.

Surprisingly, there is a wide variety of food and drink in the refrigerator, from milk to vegetables, fruits, and beverages.

I attempt to look inside the containers for any chicken, but there is none. I had the same idea. I'm a little shocked that the goods in his refrigerator are still fresh even though he seldom ever visits.

Perhaps he has a housekeeper who comes by on a regular basis to clean everything up and do the food shopping when he is due to arrive.

I grab a container when I see one. There is just potato; no chicken. I have a variety of potato dishes that I can make with this, but I'm not sure which one to choose.

He claims to need something right now.

I get a thought and turn around to check the refrigerator again to see if there is cheese.

There is a little oven but not one.

Great!

I quickly get the potatoes out, set them on the kitchen cupboard, peel off the backs, and drop them one by one into a basin.

I start by adding water to the dish from the sink. I pause after peeling up to 10 potatoes and put the other ones back in the refrigerator.

This should be plenty for just the two of us as supper. Red wine will go nicely with this dish, so I simply hope he has some in the home.

Before setting a pot of water to boil, I rinse the potatoes and put on the burner. I mix in some water and some potatoes. After that, add a bit of salt and cover the saucepan.

I put the lid on the pot and stoop to look for anything that will make squashing the potatoes extremely simple.

However, I can see a large fork, so I pick it up and take the colander before setting it down on the cabinet since there isn't a potato masher in this area. I drag the baking pan out and go to the oven to start it up.

I return to the refrigerator to get the butter after recalling seeing it there. I lightly oil the pan with the butter and set it aside.

The potatoes are already mushy when I finish. I shut off the stove and use a strainer to drain the potato. I take up each potato with a spoon after it has completely drained and lay it on a buttered pan. Since they are already rather soft, using my hand could change their texture.

I choose the large fork to smash each of the ten pieces once they are on the pan in order to mold them into butterflies and provide space for a crispy outcome.

I swiftly complete the task and, before putting the pan in the oven, sprinkle ginger and a little olive oil all over it.

I exhale a breath of relaxation as I near completion.

I wonder what Damien would have prepared if he had been the one in the kitchen, and I really hope that my dish would amaze him. He doesn't appear like someone who knows how to cook; I had no idea that millionaires did, either.

I'm awestruck and eager to try his dish.

I swiftly wash the used fork, spoons, colander, and saucepan, returning each of them to their respective places as I wait for our dinner to bake.

When I'm finished, I bring out a tray, two tables, and two chairs to serve the meal. I next take out the bottle of parsley, which will be taste-added to our just-baked, crispy potato.

To remove it, I prop open the oven. I'm pleased of myself for a job well done and I think it looks pretty great.

I set the pan down and arrange five pieces of the cooked potatoes on the first dish, followed by five more. After supper, I throw the pan in the sink to be cleaned along with the dishes.

Before putting the meal on a tray, I take the parsley bottle and sprinkle a bit on each dish.

I exclaim with a satisfied smile. "My crisp, freshly cooked mashed potatoes are finished. The meal is prepared.