The Runaway Groom

"Okay," Isaac answered softly.

They arrived outside a nice restaurant, and he threw the car keys to the valet as soon as he alighted before heading inside with an arm around Irene.

It was a Franconian restaurant with local specialties: beef bourguignon, foie gras, escargot, and the like.

However, Irene preferred Zidonian food—there were not that many foreign dishes that suited her palate.

Naturally, Isaac could tell that she did not like it. "I'll take you to a Zidonian restaurant next time."

"Good," Irene replied. "Our country's food is more to my taste."

Isaac raised a brow. "Our country's food is special in its way, but you should learn to accept different flavors too. It's a bad habit to be picky." "Am I being picky?" Irene asked.

"Yes."

Irene was speechless—how was she being picky? Just because she was not used to foreign food?

you can have this," she said as she put an

and ate the one she put on his plate

not nag and told Irene, "Make it fast. Don't stay out for

“I know," Irene replied.

Isaac personally brought her to the airport, she linked her arm

as long as you want.” Isaac pretended to be

going to have more business

"Well, work depends

looked up at him, her lips almost on his ear.

her sideways. "Are you threatening

and vibrantly. "Keep your hands to yourself if you don't want me to

his arms with one arm and tousled her hair. "When

know?" Irene said, gently biting him on the ear before pulling away,

exasperated and amused.

keep losing to you otherwise, don't I?" "As long as we're clear on that,"