His Precious Love

Chapter 156 Not The Flesh

Rayna felt something was amiss as soon as the words left her lips, so she instinctively turned around.

The man in a wheelchair quickly came into her line of sight. While holding a cup of steaming hot coffee in his hand, he regarded her curiously with his brows quirked.

“T-The door…” She attempted to talk her way out of the situation by pointing out that the door was not locked, but her plan was foiled, for the access card was right in her hand. “All right, I unlocked the door myself.”

Curtis chuckled, unfazed by the situation. “Didn’t you say you hired housekeepers for me?” he asked.

“The housekeepers weren’t adequately trained during their time in their company, so I was afraid they wouldn’t be able to take good care of you, Mr. Faymon.” She then brought over the ingredients and the two stalks of roses.

“Oh right, here’s your one million— Blah. I mean, your roses, Mr. Faymon,” said Rayna, correcting herself immediately. “The place we’re staying at is too small, so Jessie asked me to return two of the roses to you.”

“They’re just roses. There’s no need to return them to me.”

Curtis’ nonchalant attitude infuriated Rayna.

These aren’t ordinary roses! They’re money!

Yet, she was not gutsy enough to utter those thoughts aloud nor tell him that the roses were a waste of money. After all, the man was worth hundreds of billion. Thus, Rayna sped toward the kitchen to prepare breakfast, but not before telling the man, “Mr. Faymon, you shouldn’t drink coffee on an empty stomach. I’ll be making stew for you as breakfast.”

Curtis said nothing in response as his gaze landed on the cup of coffee in his hand, and for the first time in forever, he did just as he was told and set the cup down.

Soon, the metallic smell of blood wafted up his nose. The curious man wheeled himself toward the kitchen to investigate the unpleasant scent.

He could not quite control his expression when he noticed Rayna was dealing with some animal innards.

“What’s that?”

“Pork bung!” the woman responded without turning back, thus missing the change in his expression. “I got it from the market just now, so it’s super fresh. I’ll make it into a stew for you.”

Curtis took a deep breath. “Didn’t I tell you I don’t eat pork?”

“But it’s pork bung, not pig’s flesh,” Rayna retorted. She then brought it to the front of his face. “Does it look like flesh to you?”

man, his tone laced with

point, she was utterly

lost my mind? Why did I move here to take care of him? He’s way too f*cking picky for his age! Does he have fancy delicacies every day? Why isn’t

loud smack sounded when Rayna tossed the pork bung into the basin. Feeling a surge of courage, she straightened her back and bellowed at him, “It’s up to you whether you want to eat it or not. If you don’t want to,

obsidian eyes boring into hers. At that moment, her courage fled

not

was about to bite the bullet and utter an apology, he spun his wheelchair

Rayna patted her chest and

ingredients from the market. The night before, she even called Linda and asked the

was boiling, she placed the marinated pork innards into the pot, along

the gas and garnished

put on some oven mitts and brought the pot over to the dining table. Seeing that Curtis was in midst of reading the papers, she called out to him,

time to get himself to the kitchen. When he finally arrived, he fixed his gaze on the bowl of stew that Rayna had served him and remained

basis, but his everyday meals were comprised of exquisite dishes. None of his housekeepers dared to go against his wishes. Rayna was the only one who would make him have food that he disliked

being beef patties. That time around,

so, Curtis held

savoring and enjoying the dish, let alone eating it, and at long last, he gave

he savored it along with the marinated pork innards, its distinct taste instantly permeated his mouth, spreading to every single one of his tastebuds. The delicious stew warmed up his stomach with

a brow and commented,

that before, and it was much more delicious than he expected

across her face when she heard his praises. “Of

him this? What if he thinks I’m trying to garner sympathy? At that thought, she

his curiosity piqued, Curtis queried, “What

nothing. Dig in, Mr. Faymon. It won’t taste as good

tiny blisters on her middle finger. He grabbed her hand and took a closer look at it. The blisters were swollen,

hesitant to speak earlier, he instantly connected the dots

bowl of stew, so she practiced making the dish at home for a long time and accidentally

palm sent a blush to her face. Fortunately, the phone rang just

She pulled her

was a