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.

his attitude, a simple serving of pasta would suffice. If

she added some salt, then opened the fridge and pulled out some herbs. After washing the herbs, the water still hadn’t

the sofa. In his hand was

expression darkened as he read

adamantly refused divorce, she was

problems–it would be delusional for her to take over

for a successor

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

with a plate of pasta that looked and smelled delicious.

pasta, and then looked at her. “Is this all you

was the quickest and easiest

she pointed to the clock. “It’s so late.

“Or is it because pasta is the easiest thing to make?”

forced a smile. “I didn’t want

up his fork just as Shirley breathed a