Not One, But Two!

Chapter 197

"Try figuring it out yourself," Cody whispered when he saw that Greg had returned, bringing the conversation to an end.

Abigail didn't press any further, but she was starting to have several thoughts on the matter.

Meanwhile, Greg came back with the ointment, and he began to massage Abigail's swollen ankle while Cody watched in exasperation. When he was done, he asked, "Is that all? Does she really not need antibiotics or something?"

"I'm actually pretty tired," she suddenly muttered to cut him off before he could badger Cody any longer.

When Greg heard this, he quickly scooped her into his arms and murmured, "You're sleeping over at my place, and don't say no."

Cody sputtered at this, and Abigail flushed slightly in embarrassment. Sleeping over at his place? That sounds like an innuendo waiting to happen.

However, Greg couldn't care less about innuendos as he strode out of the office with the same brusque air he had when he first came in. He didn't even bother thanking Cody or sparing him a second glance.

After she was settled into the backseat, Abigail began to feel a hot, tingling sensation around her ankle. The ointment must have seeped through her skin and was working to ease out the sprain.

Then, she kept her eyes on the back of Greg's head as he drove home. There were several times when she wanted to ask him what had happened that day when he went day-drinking with Cody, but the question merely rolled to the tip of her tongue before she swallowed it back down.

While the both of them hadn't spent much time together before this, she still knew him well enough to understand that once his lips were sealed on a matter, nothing was going to pry them open.

Just then, she suddenly thought of something before she asked in a low voice, "Greg, why did you replace the ever-so-capable Troy with the somewhat-haphazard Benjamin?"

She had wanted to ask him about this since the replacement happened, but Greg didn't seem like he was in a good mood then, and she didn't think she had a right to inquire about the Buckley's Group internal affairs. However, after hearing what Cody had said earlier, she began to think that Troy must have found out something about her.

If Greg wouldn't tell her, then the only other person she could ask was Troy—he might actually know something. Of course, that pivoted on whether she could get Greg to tell her of the man's whereabouts.

Greg's eyes darkened when he heard this, and he replied curtly, "He's needed for a job, and I figured it would be good training for him." That was such an official and formal answer that it could only mean he had no intention of telling her more about this.

As such, she decided to change the subject. "I want ravioli for lunch. Can you make them for me?"

Greg froze upon hearing this, and he was so taken aback by her request that his hands nearly slipped on the steering wheel. "You want me to make ravioli for you? I don't know how, though."

"Will you make me the ravioli or not?" Abigail was not going to take no for an answer.

Upon hearing the somewhat girlish tone of her voice, Greg realized that he couldn't bring himself to say no to her. Dare I say no to her?

"Yes, I will!" he promised her swiftly and solemnly, but he was actually chiding himself for being such a pushover.

all that the ravioli he made would hold up the stuffing, but even as he doubted himself, he couldn't chicken out right

in satisfaction after hearing the answer she wanted. Exhaustion washed over

you up when

wanted her to fall asleep more than she could imagine. That way, he could carry her home immediately, and Hugh could sit there and wait

was thinking, but because she didn't want to dash his hopes, she kept quiet and

whereupon Greg noticed the unfamiliar BMW that was parked outside Abigail's place. He had never seen the car plate number

trespassed into the neighborhood; throw it out immediately," he ordered with an air of authority that

security dropped by soon after the call ended, and when they saw the car, they explained, "Mr. Buckley, the owner of this car

a

not dawdle in answering Greg. "Yes,

connected the dots fairly quickly. He realized there had been a reason why Abigail wasn't in a rush to return home; as it turned out, she had already arranged for somebody else to tend

was of his feelings by not tending to Hugh's injuries personally, nor did she call him out on his childish behavior and instead went along with him to the other side of the

someone to know how much their feelings were being cared for, and Abigail's way of going about this matter had shown Greg much respect. With that in mind, he decided that he wouldn't be unreasonable with Abigail,

bed and tucked the covers over her, he fished out his phone and went downstairs. Then, he went out to the balcony and closed the door behind him, thereafter making a phone call. He kept his voice down as he said, "Help me look into Hugh's forces and how many rivals he has at

Mr. Buckley," Benjamin said on

on his phone and began searching for ravioli recipes, earnestly looking for instructions on how he was going to make the dough. When he settled on a recipe, he started to doubt if he could pull it off, though the steps

this, he shrugged off his jacket, rolled up his

the tutorial on how to fold his ravioli. The first ravioli was over-stuffed and tore through the dough, whereas the stuffing spilled over before it ended up on Greg's shirt in a

piece of ravioli dough to stuff it. He pinched the sides of the dough after he had put in the stuffing, and while it was an odd shape, he thought it wouldn't matter as long as it held up the stuffing. Alas, his fingers were not

he produced one failed ravioli after another with his less-than-skillful fingers, and it was clear to see that he was growing impatient. Cooking is easier than this, he thought sourly as he moved on. When he saw his failure in the form of ravioli littered over the countertop, he was possessed by the strong urge to just

when she saw all the failed non-ravioli that were scattered across the

me do

her in shock. When their eyes met, he frowned and demanded, "What are you doing down here? You can't stand for too long, or you'll add more strain to your ankle! Go into the living room and sit down there. There's

the dough out and put it on the coffee table in the living room. I'll sit on the couch and guide

not have the time nor patience to cook,

told and carried the dough to the living room after he

from that, he carried her

flustered, honestly. What's so great about ravioli anyway? Why do you like it so much? It's such a waste of time and energy, not to

it," she teased with a smile. After washing her hands, she pinched a piece of dough and flattened it out by

long before pieces of perfectly-wrapped ravioli were produced under her nimble fingers, and she worked so fast that it seemed like she was using magic

long have you been doing this for?" Greg asked

she replied thoughtfully, "I don't know. I guess I've been doing it for as long as I can remember, but I haven't done

a spoonful of stuffing and put it in the center of the ravioli sheet. It looked like a lot