Date The CEO.com

Chapter 152: Winter is Coming

"Here."

Yellow sauce coated a plate, creating a faded half-circle around two Scotch Eggs. Ambryan sprinkled a bit of parsley on top which added a pop of color against the golden brown crisp coating of the dish's main star.

He handed it over to Eve. "Bon appétit."

Eve scraped the eggs with her fork. There was no mistaking the scratchy noise of the crusty breading. It was music to her ears. Using a knife, she pierced right on top of one. The coating broke like freshly fried chicken skin. She cut right through the egg until two halves fell on their backs.

Soft yolk oozed out of the hard-boiled egg inside. The smell from herbs and spices floated out of the sausage meat. It coated the egg evenly, allowing equal distribution of the protein. 

Saliva watered in her mouth. 

She moaned.

Ambryan wiped his hands with a towel. He prepared a second plate and placed it in front of him. Unike Eve, he only grabbed a fork. His stomach growled quietly but he waited for her to take the first bite. He folded his hand over the counter and smiled.

Eve didn't want a second longer. She sliced a piece, making sure it had everything. Her lips pursed together to blow the heat away. Taste buds danced inside her mouth as the flavors mixed. They enraptured every inch of her tongue.

She dropped the knife and hovered her hand over her mouth.

"Oh, that is so good," she said, chewing slowly. "That is really, really good. Really, really good. Oh, my goodness. Please nobody pinch me. This could be a dream and I do not want to wake up."

Pain shot up her arm like an ant bite. "Hey!"

"Pinched you because it's not a dream. It's real." Ambryan chuckled. He took a bite of his cooking. The result was as he expected it to be. He added more black pepper than his original recipe since he preferred a sharp taste. josei

Eve was on her third slice. It wasn't like the flavor changed with every bite she took but—each one felt like it was her first. She lifted her fourth slice, admiring the contrast of colors. "I mean, if you cook this good, I can totally give up fast food."

Ambryan chose not to answer. Instead, he went with a question. "Any requests for dessert?"

"You're making dessert too?!" 

He put his fork down and patted a napkin to his face. His violet eyes flickered towards the floor. "Well, I was hoping I'd get a bag of cookies from baking class. But that didn't happen."

"You want to settle scores?" Eve dropped her jaw, the corner of her mouth curled up. "I still remember that recipe. If you have the ingredients, I'd be willing to make them. They can bake in the oven while we eat."

Without a moment to lose, Ambryan pressed a button.

A waiter immediately knocked on their door. He bowed at them as soon as he came in. Eve found it a little odd since she often did it at work. This role gave her the opportunity to be on the receiving end.

She didn��t know quite what to feel.

"How may I help you?"

"Give him the list and they'll prepare it." 

"Okay."

Before Eve searched for a paper and pen, the waiter handed her his notepad. A little pen stuck out from its spiral spine. She opened it on a blank page and listed the ingredients but kept the measurements to herself. This way no one could attempt to steal Andie's original chocolate chip cookies. 

She gave the notepad back, her scribbles in black ink. "If you have a weighing scale and measuring cups, I'd thoroughly appreciate both."

"Understood, madam."

"Thank you."

The waiter read the list as he quickly left the room. He muttered the ingredients.

Eve and Ambryan spent the next few minutes in silence. Both savored the Scotch Eggs. Eve moved the second glass of lemonade closer to him.

"Do you eat spicy food?" Ambryan asked, taking a sip.

"Sometimes."

A piece of Scotch Egg appeared before her eyes. White sauce had a mix of red chilli flakes. Eve opened her mouth on instinct. The fierce spice exploded like fireworks in her mouth. Then, a sea of cream soothed the flames.

The door opened.

.

.

.

.

.

The door slammed shut.

"Excuse me!"

"I think we scared him." Eve coughed, letting go of the fork. She chewed and studied the new flavors on her tongue. It gave a completely different experience from the original sauce. "Oh, wow. That definitely gives it a kick."

Just to be safe, she plucked out an ice cube from her lemonade. The cold water solid lulled any swelling on her tongue. It was tolerable but she hadn't been prepared for the intensity.

Ambryan coated another slice with the original sauce, ditching the chilli flakes. He offered it to Eve in the same manner as before. It contained nothing different from the ones she ate first. Or maybe she was missing something?

Eve scowled. "I have my own plate of eggs."

"But you haven't tasted mine," Ambryan pointed out. 

"What's the difference?"

"You tell me."

This time, Eve hesitated. Her lips parted slowly as if her jaw ached from the movement. Her senses were on high alert. They became conscious of every muscle she used. Ambryan remained oblivious to her actions.

Then, he ate the next slice. 

It was as if time moved slowly. Eve watched as his lips pressed against the stainless steel, cleaning it off. The tip of his tongue licked away any trace of sauce left on his bottom lip.

She gulped.

And drank half of her beverage.

'Snap out of it!' Her mind screamed.

"Can we have those ingredients? I'd like to get started." She laughed nervously. A distraction would be good right about now. Her gaze fidgeted on the table. What was that just now? Why was she even looking at his lips? It wasn't like he chose to wear lipstick today.

The image of Ambryan in red lipstick flashed in her head. 

A snort choked out of her throat.

"As you requested, madam," the waiter greeted as soon as he came back. He avoided looking at either of them. A steel push cart occupied an empty spot beside the counter. All of the ingredients were unopened—seeming to have come from their storage instead of the kitchen.

Eve hopped her chair while Ambryan cleared out the counter. He pulled out the utensils, pans and bowls she needed from the cabinets. 

"Oh, no."

Ambryan stood up from his squat. He had been checking the oven to figure out how it operated. Jogging in her direction, he said, "What is it?"

"Nothing." Eve quickly denied, already thinking of a solution. She spun on her heel and headed for the stove. She found a saucepan from under the counter. "We used softened butter that day but I remember Beatrice used melted butter once. Although, it had a caramel color. I thought it was burnt until I tasted the cookies."

The butter began to melt inside the pan. She moved it around with a silicone spatula. 

Ambryan crossed his arms over his chest. "Aren't you going to wash your hands first?"

"Right!"

Eve scrambled towards the sink. He shook his head and moved the ingredients. Half of the workstation became dedicated to baking. While Eve washed her hands, he checked on the butter.

It bubbled from the high heat.

He lowered it.

"Is it burnt?"

"No," Ambryan assured her, stepping aside. Their hands brushed as Eve took the spatula from him. He stood right behind her and oversaw the process. He knew what method she referred to. It gave the butter a nutty flavor, enhancing the taste of the cookies.

Eve bowed her head. She hoped it seemed subtle. In reality, she wanted to hide her pink ears by letting a few hair strands fall. She could feel his warm presence coat her back. 

"Don't stop stirring or it will really be burnt."

"Right." Eve jumped. Her elbow jerked upwards and hit the bag of flour. It toppled over the counter, opening from the impact. White powder flew into the air as one big puff of cloud. 

Then, it rained like snow on December morning.

It spared nothing in its path.

"Oh! Oh! OH!" Eve shrieked. Her hands instantly dusted off the flour from Ambryan's vest. No matter how much she brushed, the powder left a white cast. A lump formed in her throat. It was inevitable but she clung to the nonexistent hope that it would disappear.

In her haste, she made her way downwards.

Ambryan grabbed a hold of her wrists.

Alarm bells rang in her head when his grip tightened. How much of a trouble was she in? He sent his clothes for cleaning, right? Maybe he'd forgive her if she covered the bill? Each question thundered in her chest, making her heart race.

"You can… look at them as battle scars?" Eve tried to joke, hoping humor could help. Maybe he'd take it less seriously if she made him laugh. "Baking is like a battlefield. The dry ingredients explode like grenades, liquid ones drip as if mimicking a small flood… it's totally normal to look like this. There's no need to be ashamed."

"You…" Ambryan said, using a low tone and volume. He tugged her closer until the space between them vanished. His violet eyes flared down at her. "You really need to be aware of where you are touching."