The Runaway Groom

Chapter 640

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Chapter 640

Isaac was standing by the door, having a clear view of what Irene was doing.

As he strode in, Irene asked, "Have you had dinner yet?”

Isaac said nothing, instead walking up to her and putting a hand on her scarred face.

Irene watched him and joked, ’If I married you like this, won't people say that you married ugly?"

"No one would have the balls to say that," Isaac replied, gently caressing her cheek.

'They might, behind your back," Irene said, taking his hand off. "Take your shower. I'm checking on the children

downstairs."

Isaac caught her by the wrist. "We have people doing that. You, on the other hand, are getting weird."

"Mom was suggesting that I get plastic surgery," Irene said. "She told me that this doesn't look good."

Isaac smiled. ’It doesn't."

Irene glared at him right then. "I thought you said you didn't mind."

Isaac kept smiling. "I don't!"

"So why doesn't this look good?"

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Perhaps he did not like how she looked now and was just lying that he did not mind?

"Ah, so you're not actually above the rest and prefer a pretty face. You must hate how I look right now, and you're

finally admitting to it..."

Isaac frowned.

Why was she getting annoyed? He was just kidding.

Isaac wrapped his arms around her. "Are you upset?"

Irene was scowling and struggled. "Let me go..."

"Nope. Let me show you if I care."

Holding on to her, he kissed her and said, "Maybe I should get myself disfigured too? That would make us a match,

right?"

Irene was amused despite herself. "You're so annoying."

Isaac kept bugging her anyway. "I really don't mind."

'Fine, I get it," Irene growled, but her irritation had already faded just then.

'Good. Now, I'll prove it to you," he whispered, and reached underneath her pajamas.

Irene gave in immediately. "Fine, I get it, stop-it tickles!"

'Where does it tickle? I'll scratch it for you."

As they played around, they ended up in bed, her clothes loose from her tussle and her hair a mess.

Kissing her, Isaac then raised her hand and pressed it over his chest. "It's all you in here."

Irene was speechless, her cheeks flushing from his sudden declaration of love.

As things kept escalating, Irene put her hands against his muscular chest and asked, "Have you had dinner yet?"

Isaac freed his collar, saying, "Nope."

"I'll cook something for you. What do you want?"

"Anything goes."

"Okay, then go take a shower," she said, and slithered out from beneath him.

Their new mansion was especially vast.

There was no one in the living room since Sheryl and Mrs. Watson were playing with the children in their room.

Irene headed to the kitchen and cooked paella, throwing in shrimps and other bits of seafood, while also boiling a

small pot of oxtail soup.

Isaac arrived downstairs after his shower in his pajamas when she was just about done.

Walking into the kitchen, he wrapped his arms around her from behind, lovingly resting his chin on her shoulder.

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"Smells good."

”My cooking?"

'I meant you,' he said quietly into her ear.

She pouted and elbowed him gently. "Be serious. Now step back, it's time to eat.”

"I'll help."

Irene allowed him to carry the paella to the table, while she brought the hot pot of soup with oven mitts.

As she took her seat, Isaac looked up and said, "You eat too."

"I've eaten-can't eat anymore now," she told him, watching him as she placed her chin over her hands. "Is it good?"

Isaac smiled but he said, "It's average."

Irene rolled her eyes at him, and that was when the landline rang.

Irene answered it-it was James Cross, and he sounded anxious. "Where's Mr. Jefferson?"

'Is something up?"

"Yeah."

Irene quickly took the phone to Isaac then, saying, "It's James. It sounds important."

Isaac answered it right then. "What is it?"

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