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.

pasta would suffice. If he wanted meat, he’d have

of pasta. As the water heated, she added some salt, then opened the fridge and pulled out some herbs. After washing the

in the living room, Benjamin sat on the sofa. In his hand was Shirley’s workbook,

expression darkened as he

divorce, she was secretly

to even grasp basic problems–it would

Owen had started looking for a

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

and smelled delicious. She placed it

cast a cold glance at the bowl of pasta, and then looked at her. “Is this all you can

quickest and

wasn’t about to admit that. Cleverly, she pointed to the clock. “It’s so late. Something light is better for your

is it because pasta is the easiest thing to

his question, she forced a smile. “I didn’t want

and picked up his fork just as Shirley breathed a sigh of relief, he suddenly looked up and said, “Shirley,