Everyone says she’s freeloading, yet she’s still acting so nonchalantly. Doesn’t she have any sense of sha?
This woman is unbelievably thick-skinned.
Ian Douglas snorted coldly, "Then why are you still standing here? I’m hungry, go make sothing to eat."
Scarlett Yates readily agreed, "Alright, as long as Old Master Douglas doesn’t mind my poor cooking skills."
--
Half an hour later.
Ian Douglas looked at the three dishes and a soup on the table with a livid expression.
Three dishes: scrambled eggs with tomatoes, scrambled eggs with green peppers, and scrambled eggs with chives; one bowl of soup, tomato fried egg soup, oily with so spring onions sprinkled on top.
Two bowls of rice, probably with too little water, the half-cooked grains are obvious at a glance.
"Is this your idea of lunch?" After a while, he withdrew his gaze from the table and asked with a gloomy face.
Scarlett Yates nodded, "Yes."
With a snap, Ian Douglas slapped the table, "What on earth is this? Is this fit for anyone to eat?"
The dishes are all made of eggs which might still pass, but the eggs were fried into a burnt ss, the heat rising into their noses, carrying a pungent burnt sll.
The only thing not burnt was the tomato fried egg soup, but who knows how much oil was added to it, a thick layer of oil at the surface, enough to kill anyone’s appetite with a single look.
This whole table of dishes is worse than pig food, yet she dared to serve it for him.
This was clearly intended to provoke him, to express her dissatisfaction in this way.
She’s already this arrogant and domineering even before marrying into the Saxon Family, what would happen if she actually succeeds?
The more Ian Douglas thought about it, the angrier he got, almost flipping the table, glaring angrily, "Scarlett Yates, do you think asking you to cook is beneath you, so you deliberately made this nonsense to annoy ?"
"Old Master Douglas, I have tried my best." Scarlett Yates wiped the sweat from her forehead, still wearing an apron, she calmly said to the furious Ian Douglas, "These are the dishes I can make, if Old Master Douglas thinks they are bad, then there’s nothing I can do."
This man, used to being treated like royalty, is truly hard to serve.
Despite her laboring over the al for more than half an hour, not only was he dissatisfied, but he also utterly belittled her culinary skills, making her efforts thoroughly unappreciated.
This fiery temperant is really quite similar to Matthew Saxon’s.
"You tried your best?" Ian Douglas sneered, "Do you think I don’t see through your little tricks?"
Raised in such an ordinary family, how could she not know how to cook?
Even if she can’t make a lavish feast, she could still manage a few ho-style dishes, right?
But what’s with this table full of burnt eggs?
After another glance at the half-cooked rice and the tableful of burnt eggs, Ian Douglas’s anger intensified further, he called in a maid, pointing at the dishes just served coldly, "Take them away and dump them."
He feared that if he looked at them one more ti, he’d truly flip the table.
Doing sothing so detrintal to his image, how could he do that?
The maid saw Ian Douglas’s face as though the whole world owed him a billion dollars, where would she dare to slack off, she quickly took the "egg-only al" off the table to dump.
From beginning to end, Scarlett Yates said nothing, just quietly watched from the side.
When the maid cleaned up the table once more, she slowly began again, "Since Old Master Douglas can’t stomach this, perhaps you should have your chef prepare sothing for you. They know your tastes best, my skills are just this. If Old Master Douglas expects to achieve a chef’s level, you’d have to wait forever. Even if I wanted to learn, I’m afraid you wouldn’t live to see that day."
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