- Novel-Eng
- Romance
- CEO & Rich
- Billionaire
- Marriage & Family
- Love
- Sweet Love
- Revenge
- Werewolf
- Family
- Marriage
- Drama
- Alpha
- Action
- Adult
- Adventure
- Comedy
- Drama
- Ecchi
- Fantasy
- Gender Bender
- Harem
- Historical
- Horror
- Josei
- Game
- Martial Arts
- Mature
- Mecha
- Mystery
- Psychological
- Romance
- School Life
- Sci-fi
- Seinen
- Shoujo
- Shounen Ai
- Shounen
- Slice of Life
- Smut
- Sports
- Supernatural
- Tragedy
- Wuxia
- Xianxia
- Xuanhuan
- Yaoi
- Military
- Two-dimensional
- Urban Life
- Yuri
Chapter 344
Chapter: 344
“You're making noodles?”
“Yes. Didn't you askto cook something simple?” Millie replied grumpily. “Do you know how to cook?” Marcus asked.
Millie wondered what the man was doing in the kitchen.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtAlso, why was he only asking her if she knew how to cook now? Of course, she knew how to cook. She was not skind of spoiled heiress, and cooking was a survival skill for ordinary people.
Not only did she know how to cook, but she was also excellent at it. Instead of saying that, though, she answered, “I don’t, so don’t get mad atif it doesn’t taste good.”
Celeste had already asked her to clean the house. If she found out that Millie knew how to cook, the older woman might fire the chef and ask her to replace him.
“For someone who doesn’t know how to cook, you sure did a good job cutting the vegetables.”
The perfectly even slices of tomato on the counter looked delicious.
Millie grimaced, wishing she had not chopped the tomato so evenly, but she could not bring herself to do otherwise. “Get out of here. I'll bring it to him when it’s ready.”
Marcus moved to leave the kitchen, but then he stopped and looked back at her.
“Make more of it. I’m hungry, too.”
What the hell? Millie glanced at the ingredients she had prepared for only one person before looking at the man who had already left the kitchen.
Clicking her tongue in annoyance, she opened the refrigerator again and took out another tomato.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmWhen Marcus returned to the study, Harlan looked up at him. There was a photo in his hand. “Is your wife home?”
Marcus glanced at the photo he was holding. It was a photo of him and the girl from the photography team. Harlan probably assumed she was his wife.
“she’s out,” Marcus stated nonchalantly.
Harlan examined the photo again, a look of disappointment on his face.
“She looks plain. She’s not as pretty as your maid.”
“Didn't you say before that you like witty girls more than pretty ones?”