Runaway Heiress, Reluctant bride

I had learned how to use the rice cooker pretty quickly. Isabella had shown me the basics, the things every woman should know before getting married. Although I wasn’t interested in marriage, I didn’t have the heart to refuse her lessons when she insisted so warmly.

Cooking rice was as easy as 1, 2, 3, but since Leo gave me only thirty minutes to prepare his meal, I had to work quickly. I checked both the pantry and the fridge, looking for something I could make within the time frame.

After heating up some oil, I crushed a few cloves of garlic. When the oil was ready, I added the garlic to the pan, careful not to let it burn. Before it had a chance to scorch, I added the corned beef, stirring it until it was well mixed before cracking a couple of eggs into the pan.

Perfect.

Once I plated the dish, I topped it off with a few onion rings and set it on the table. I checked the time—still fifteen minutes to spare. I went back to the fridge and grabbed a can of spam, slicing it into even pieces while heating more oil. It didn’t take long before the spam was sizzling in the pan. I served it with the rice.

Leo’s fridge was stocked with drinks, so I grabbed two cans of pineapple juice and added them to the table. The food was ready. The table was set. But Leo still hadn’t shown up. Instead of waiting around, I helped myself.

“What are you doing, Isabella?”

I nearly spilled my food when he suddenly appeared.

“Eating,” I replied nonchalantly.

“What’s that? Where’s my meal?”

“This is our meal. Sit down and eat,” I told him firmly.

“It’s unhealthy!” he complained.

“Then I’ll eat it all myself. Wait a moment; I’ll make you something healthier.”

I returned to the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge for fruits and veggies. When I found a cucumber, I knew it would be perfect. I peeled it, sliced it to perfection, and added a little mayo. Simple, but effective.

“What is this?”

“Your dinner. It’s healthy,” I replied, placing the plate in front of him.

“Are you trying my patience?” he asked, his voice sharp.

“Shhh, be quiet while we’re eating,” I reminded him. It wasn’t good etiquette to complain about the food, something I had learned from living in tough conditions.

“I’m going to die because of you,” he grumbled.

“It’s a pity. If you die, I’ll have to find another employer,” I joked, though I couldn’t suppress a smile. Teasing him over the smallest things gave me a strange sense of joy.

Fuming, he snatched the plate with the spam and began eating. “Try cooking something different and tastier in the morning,” he ordered.

“Okay, boss!”

We somehow survived dinner without an all-out war. Leo was still furious, but I didn’t back down. I could tell he was frustrated, but it was hard to stop poking fun at him when he was so serious.

I thought I’d won.

After dinner, I was assigned the task of washing the dishes, while Leo retreated to the living room. I could hear the basketball game blaring from the TV, the volume so high it shook the walls. I couldn't believe that a man of thirty-two could act like such a child. His parents must have had their hands full raising him—he was so different from anyone I knew.

Once I finished with the dishes, I decided to approach him. He turned toward me with a look in his eyes that I couldn’t quite place. Was it desire? Lust? I wasn’t sure.

“Why don’t you give me a back massage?” he suddenly asked.

For a moment, I thought he had lost his mind. I stared at him, waiting for him to laugh it off as a joke. But he didn’t. He looked calm, as if it were completely normal for him to ask his maid for a massage. What a tyrant!

“Why should I?” I asked, trying to hide my disbelief.

“Because I’m tired,” he said simply.

“Then go to bed, take a hot shower, and rest,” I suggested. A hot shower would help him relax, especially after whatever he had been up to with the brunette earlier.

I turned to leave, ignoring his request, but then he sighed heavily, looking completely drained.

“Fine,” I muttered.

He glanced up at me with a look of satisfaction, clearly pleased that I had given in. I promised myself it would be the last time. I walked over to him and began massaging his shoulders. They felt stiff beneath my fingers.

“Back massage,” he repeated impatiently.

“I don’t want to hurt your back, Leo.”

“Come on, Isabella. Stop being coy and just do it!”

“I said no. You should respect that,” I replied, pressing my fingers gently to his temple. He let out a low moan, the sound strangely familiar, like something I’d heard before.

It was the same sound he made when he was with a woman. The realization hit me, but I couldn’t let it show.

I stopped massaging his head, preparing to leave, but I couldn’t help the way my mind raced.

He looked at me like I had made a monumental mistake. “Did I tell you to stop?” he asked, his voice laced with irritation.