With a furrowed brow, Maxwell Peary absently turned on the television in front of him, switching it to the Financial Channel.
"Is there any fruit in the kitchen?"
Maxwell suddenly rembered that Nia seed to particularly love strawberries.
"Have the kitchen prepare a fruit platter, but don’t include pears or apples."
Generally, Nia wasn’t a picky eater and enjoyed fruit, but she specifically disliked pears and apples.
"Yes, sir."
Frederick Goldsmith hesitated for a mont before turning to head to the kitchen.
In that brief instant, he had forgotten his young master was married. The fruit platter he ordered must certainly be for the Young Mistress.
He almost blurted out, "Sir, don’t you dislike fruit?"
Luckily, Frederick didn’t ask. Otherwise, the Young Master might have turned, looked at him scornfully, and then mocked him: Are you losing your mind in your old age, or have you always been brainless?
He might even use my age as an excuse to send back to my hotown to live out my days! Frederick worried.
How terrifying!
The re thought sent a shudder down Frederick’s spine, prompting him to quicken his pace toward the kitchen.
Nia descended the stairs slowly, her lips pursed in a slight pout. It wasn’t until she had looked in the mirror that she realized her neck was covered in love bites.
Is this Maxwell Peary part dog or sothing?
At this ti of year, turtlenecks were out of the question. She had to resort to a silk scarf to cover the embarrassing marks on her neck.
Maybe next ti, I should leave a mark on his neck too, she mused. He’s always in white shirts and black suits. A love bite on his neck would be impossible to hide.
The re thought of that scene cheered her up considerably, and she no longer felt so uncomfortable.
"What’s wrong?"
Maxwell put down the remote control and stood up, striding toward her. He climbed the stairs two steps at a ti, and within two or three seconds, he was by her side, extending his hand to steady her.
"Did I hurt you?"
Seeing Nia descend the stairs slowly, which wasn’t her usual style, Maxwell thought sothing was wrong and was montarily flustered.
"If I said yes, would you be gentler next ti?"
Nia looked at Maxwell with innocent, wide eyes. Her bright, clear gaze made it impossible to look away.
Maxwell’s gaze deepened; he found himself doubting whether she was genuinely uncomfortable or just pretending.
"Of course, I will."
He nodded, his face serious. He had agreed, but whether he would actually follow through remained to be seen.
"Can I ask you a question?"
Nia bit her lip, hesitating for a long while before speaking.
Maxwell was montarily stunned by Nia’s hesitation, which left him sowhat puzzled. What could possibly make her so hesitant?
"Go ahead."
Nia looked down at her fluffy slippers. The CEO must have been really angry about kicking off my shoe earlier. He’s so dignified; it was probably the first ti he’s ever put shoes on for soone. And not only did I not thank him, I kicked the shoe away. After all that, if I ask him my question now, will he get angry?
She wasn’t sure, and this uncertainty kept her head lowered in thought, her fingers incessantly pinching her palm.
She silently rehearsed the question in her mind several tis before finally gathering the courage to look up.
Her beautiful, expressive eyes fixed on the man in front of her; his expression was no different than usual.
"Okay, what I want to ask is..."
Nia bit her lip, ready to take the plunge.
"What I want to ask is... where are the snacks I bought this afternoon?"
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