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?

Zidonian and rejected other food. "Here, you can have this," she said as

she put on his plate before the others. Sheryl sighed, speechless

she did not nag and told Irene, "Make it fast. Don't

“I know," Irene replied.

her arm around his. "I'l come back as soon

long as you want.” Isaac pretended to

smiled. "What, going to have more business

throat. "Well, work depends

up at him, her lips almost on his ear.

her sideways. "Are you threatening

yourself if you don't

his arms with one arm and

the ear before pulling away, leaning against the car door and

exasperated and amused.

nodded mischievously. “I keep losing to you otherwise, don't I?" "As long as we're clear on