His Unveiled Passion

Inside the apartment, Stephen was wearing an apron and cooking dinner for Tessa. Leaning against the kitchen doorframe with her arms crossed, she watched him with an amused expression.

"Who would've thought someone like you could cook?" she teased.

Stephen calmly rinsed the vegetables. "Didn't you ask me last time where I got the food I brought you?" Turning slightly, he gave her a faint smile. "I made it myself."noveldrama

Tessa couldn't hide her surprise. "You cooked it yourself? Why did it taste exactly like the dishes my mom used to make?"

Stephen smiled. "I learned it from your mom during the few meals I had at your place."

She raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "Impossible. You only came over a few times back then."

The first time they met, she had just turned ten. Her mother passed away shortly after her 12th birthday.

In the two years between those events, Stephen had visited her house fewer than five times. How could he have possibly learned her mom's cooking skills?

"I don't believe you," she said, giving him a suspicious look.

Stephen sliced celery into thin strips and then marinated the beef. "Remember how I said I'd take you somewhere? We couldn't go that day because you were injured. Let's go tomorrow."

"What does that have to do with cooking?" she asked.

"It's related."

"Alright then."

Soon, Stephen finished cooking two dishes and a soup-beef and celery skillet, tomato frittata, and zucchini soup.

Tessa usually had a light dinner or occasionally skipped it altogether. But with Stephen cooking and the dishes perfectly matching her taste, she surprisingly finished a whole serving. The two of them even finished everything on the table.

After dinner, she offered to wash the dishes, but Stephen stopped her. "You sit down. I'll do it."

Grinning mischievously, she teased, "Wow, Stephen, you're so handy in the kitchen. Should I marry you and take you home?"

Stephen chuckled and flicked her forehead lightly. "I'll marry you."

After tidying up the kitchen, Stephen, ever mindful of boundaries, didn't suggest staying the night.

As he was leaving, Tessa leaned against the doorframe, looking at his handsome face and wondering

why didn't he ask to stay. Was it because she wasn't as attractive to him as she'd thought?

The thought made her glance down at herself. Well, her figure was certainly nothing to scoff at.

Stephen noticed her distracted expression and smiled. "What are you looking at? Why do you seem so preoccupied?"

Startled, she coughed awkwardly and shook her head. "It's nothing. Be safe on the way back." "Alright, see you tomorrow."

He turned and left, carrying the trash bag with him.

Watching his retreating figure, she couldn't help but smile. The man was so upright it was almost

disarming. It was as if he didn't have a single improper thought in his head.

...

At the police station, Zachary was being questioned. He was set to be detained, but his assistant arrived just in time to post bail and get him out.

As the two stepped out of the station, it was already four in the morning.

The assistant looked exhausted. He had barely returned to the hotel when he got a call from Zachary, asking him to come to the station.

His girlfriend had accompanied him to Rivertown, and after a day spent working, he had finally gotten some time to enjoy a little private intimacy. However, just as things were getting good, Zachary's call interrupted them. His girlfriend was even threatening to break up with him.

This boss of his was truly the bane of his existence, a nightmare in human form. Fresh out of the hospital, Zachary had already gotten into a fight and landed himself in jail.

With a weary sigh, his assistant got into the driver's seat. "Mr. Gomez, where to now?"

"Back to the hotel," Zachary said, his voice heavy with fatigue.

In the hotel suite, Zachary turned on the lights, illuminating the cold and empty room.

He walked to the window, lit a cigarette, and took a deep drag.

The smoke settled in his lungs, leaving a dull, aching heaviness in his chest. He stared at the desolate room, his thoughts a turbulent mess.