“If your palate craves such a meal, perhaps a lavish restaurant would better suit your desires. My culinary talents are not at your disposal,” she quipped, her tone laced with a trace of irritation.

Marcus’ gaze trailed over the curves of her figure before his lips curled into a knowing smile.

“Should you withhold sustenance from me? I’ll consume you as an alternative dish tonight.”

Consume me? The notion reverberated within her, a puzzlement etched upon her features. How could he possibly mean such a thing?

The audacity of his words bore into her consciousness. The initial confusion gave way to comprehension, and her face instantly flooded with a rosy hue. A single word, carrying the weight of her sentiments, slipped through her lips.

“Bastard!”

diminutive. Marcus’ towering presence magnified the spatial constraints, causing the walls to

culinary setting, Marcus appeared incongruous. His attire, a cherished shirt adorned with oil’s embrace, belied

Marcus gazed down upon the luminous tapestry of family lights. The fragrance of fine cooking

the both of them, the day

heed. Avoid the flames’ fervor,” cautioned the attentive

of steak in the pan, a

A porcelain plate hosted a medium-well steak alongside half-cooked eggs, broccoli, and cherry tomatoes—a

had already unveiled the mystery, standing at the door alongside

your desires are here,”

bags, Marcus

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