A deal with the devil

Chapter 12

Just as Shirley was about to step into the kitchen, she suddenly turned back and looked at Benjamin. “Didn’t I just bring you dinner earlier?”

Denjamin didn’t answer, only meeting her gaze with his deep, dark eyes.

After a few seconds of staring at each other, she gave up. “What do you want to eat?”

“Amthing,” he replied

Shirley was speechless.

Anything? Fine, she would make him some plain pasta!

She tied on an apron and stepped into the kitchen. Recalling the moment when Benjamin’s hand touched her back earlier, a ridiculous thought crossed her mind. Was he about to pick her up from the floor?

But the more she thought about it, the more she dismissed it as wishful thinking. With how Benjamin had treated her that evening, there was no way he’d do something so caning.

He must have just intended to wake her up so she could work herself to the bone for him.

of pasta would suffice. If

fridge and pulled out some herbs. After washing the herbs, the water still hadn’t boiled. She glanced at the fridge again. Alright, maybe she’d add a little bacon. After all, if she

the sofa. In his hand was Shirley’s workbook, the one she had been drooling on

darkened as he

adamantly refused divorce, she was secretly planning for

of understanding–unable to even grasp basic problems–it would be delusional for her to take over Weiss

looking for a

she was no different from a fool. Just how did she even graduate

plate of pasta that looked and

a cold glance at the bowl of pasta, and then looked

course. Pasta was the quickest and easiest dish to

to admit that. Cleverly, she pointed to the clock. “It’s so late. Something

her immediately. “Or is it because

“I

her and picked up his fork just as Shirley breathed a sigh of relief, he suddenly looked up and said, “Shirley, are you an idiot?