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?

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

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

nag and told Irene, "Make it fast.

“I know," Irene replied.

the airport, she linked her arm around his. "I'l come back

you want.” Isaac pretended to be

have more business discussions with your

cleared his throat. "Well,

Irene looked up at him, her lips almost on his ear. "Cheat on me, and I'll get someone

sideways. "Are

your hands to yourself if you don't want me to

into his arms with one arm and tousled

the ear before pulling away, leaning against the car door and staying far from

amused. "Does

don't I?" "As long as we're clear on