Mr billionaire's regret chasing his irresistible wife by Gabby Emmanuel

The velvet Fork

(ARIELLE'S POV)

So this was it-The Velvet Fork, our rival restaurant.

"We're going deep undercover," Stephen declared, adjusting his fake mustache and patting down the ridiculous green wig perched on his head.

I sighed, already regretting agreeing to this. "Are you sure that disguise won't just make you more obvious?"

"Obvious? Ha! You're the obvious one!" Rebecca retorted, tilting her enormous sunhat so low it practically swallowed her face. Her oversized sunglasses weren't helping her blend in, either.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Neither of you can talk. We all look like a bad comedy sketch."

"Speak for yourself," Stephen said with mock indignation, twirling his fake mustache. "I'm a method actor. This is art."

I couldn't help but laugh, shaking my head at their antics. Once inside, I managed to steer us toward something resembling a logical plan. "Let's get a table, place an order, and observe their operations," I suggested, adjusting my own dark shades. Stephen straightened his wig. "Got it. Time to give an Oscar-worthy performance."

Rebecca smiled mischievously. "Time to put my spy skills into use and gather as much intel as we need."

We spotted an empty table of three and approached, taking our seats. Afterwards, we beckoned a waiter, and he handed us a menu.

As we skimmed through, our eyes widened in unison. I quickly forced a neutral expression when the waiter asked, "Is something wrong?"

"Oh, no, not at all," I said with a too-bright smile, handing back the menu. "Your design is... impressive."

He smiled, his face relaxing. "Can I take your orders now?"

"Of course. I'll have grilled chicken and rice," I said.

"And I'll have the chicken parmesan," Stephen chimed.

"I will have the vegetarian quinoa bowl," Rebecca said.

The waiter scribbled the orders on his iPad before walking away. The moment he was out of earshot, Stephen, who was already fuming, spoke up.

"That menu is a ripoff! It's basically ours! Even the design!"

didn't just copy

but let's not make a scene," I said, trying to stay

her critique mood, loudly commented. "Their chicken sauce is over-reduced by the way, and the

as he looked in

us wearily.

referring to the restaurant we visited yesterday. Their sauce was nothing to write home about," Rebecca

and I

were just drawing a comparison," I

the case, I heard her clearly," he said

covers

a mere glance at the dish with my experienced

flagged down the waiter politely. "Excuse me, but I believe this chicken isn't fully cooked. Could you

"Perhaps you're unfamiliar with

I've been to Japan and

some rice. The texture was off, and the smell

tone sharp. "Maybe we should take a sample to a lab. You

keep a straight face as he

things could escalate, I stood, carefully placing my napkin on the table. "Excuse me," I said, shooting Stephen and Rebecca a

seat.

back," I

entered the restroom, grateful

staring at my reflection

from the faucet splashed over my hands, the steady rhythm helping to calm my racing nerves. With my emotions under control adjusted my muffler and prepared to leave. But just ast turned, hushed voices drifted from the

food quality," a woman's voice said, low and

on their app. She thinks she can just waltz back from Italy and outshine us," a man

froze, every muscle tensing. Were

Meyers' place is going

possible, my mind reeling. Once I was sure they

looked up,

Sunging

Now," I said,

at me in confusion, then promptly panicked. "What happened? Did they find out we're spying? Are they coming for us?" His voice cracked as his wig shifted dangerously

her expression both curious and concerned. "Arielle,

gesturing for