Claudia POV
The rest of the day went on rather uneventfully. I was busy with my needlework to fix Aurora’s elephant doll that I hugged too tight until I accidentally ripped its big ear last night, and Jane ignored the entire ti. She continued working on her laptop until she packed up at four.
I kept my smile in place as I asked, "Leaving already? I assu it’s ti for him to get back, huh?"
"Yes, Mr. Gatlin should be here around five," Jane confird. She didn’t look happy anymore, and her chattering had ceased after I showed how relieved I was to know that Ray wasn’t obsessed with .
I was still confused, but I couldn’t care less as I followed her to the front door and said, "You don’t have to co again tomorrow, you know? I’ll tell him that you’re always here watching over , you can spend your ti doing sothing more productive instead."
Jane gave a disdainful look, "I cannot do that, Miss. It’s my job to look after you. Not that I want to. Who wants to watch over an ungrateful woman, right?"
My brain stopped working for a few seconds as I tried to swallow the sudden insult. But Jane had already slamd the door before I could say anything.
"What’s wrong with her? Isn’t it good that she doesn’t need to do this stupid job?" I muttered.
Nevertheless, I couldn’t be bothered by a girl who was probably in her mid-twenties. Whatever Jane had in her mind, as long as she didn’t try to sabotage in any way, then we could ’coexist’ in this penthouse until Ray got bored of and freed from that insane contract.
I went to the kitchen and started preparing dinner, since cooking for him was actually part of my job.
It wasn’t really a bother for , since I was used to cooking every day at ho as a full-ti housewife.
However, as I started preparing the broth base, I was reminded of Clarissa’s words that night:
You’ll be his fuckmaid; cleaning and spreading your legs like a whore!
Clarissa’s words were like poison to , because I couldn’t help to think that everything I did at ho—taking care of the house, caring for my daughter, and making sure the house was in its best shape once my husband returned ho—was nothing but a job for a fuckmaid.
It made feel self-conscious and wonder if anything I had done so far was actually worth sothing.
"Well, the answer is definitely no for Miles," I sneered as I chopped the vegetables rather roughly. My mood soured as I thought about all the efforts I made to make him happy.
Then, what about Ray? Would he... appreciate the effort I’m making?
That thought crossed my mind for a few seconds before I quickly dispelled it. It was ridiculous to think that a heartless bastard like him would appreciate sothing as aningless as cooking dinner.
So I would just treat this as a side job while I was stuck here. And as a professional who worked in the dical field for a long ti, I knew how to hold a kitchen knife just like I used to hold a scalpel.
**
I heard the door open right after I finished putting dinner on the table. So I took off my apron and walked to the door to see Ray taking off his shoes and hanging his coat in the foyer.
"Welco back," I greeted with a bright smile, probably the brightest I had shown so far in front of him—if we didn’t count all the foolish ways I tried to get his attention back in our university days. "I’ve prepared dinner, since you told to make breakfast and dinner every day."
Ray stared at unblinkingly, which was a little unnerving, especially now that he looked tired after a long day at work.
I should’ve told him that his eyes gave people an uneasy feeling, as if they were about to be bought by him, since he always looked at others like they were items.
Then, I recalled how Jane told that I was just one of the dozen girls he had dated. I was his type, but not necessarily the only one.
He maintained eye contact until he walked past and went to the dining table to check what I had prepared.
"I made Italian beef soup with risotto on the side. You should eat now while they are still warm," I explained what I had spent more than an hour preparing. "And tell if you like it. I wouldn’t know if I’m doing a good job if you keep a straight face while eating."
"Mm, I’ll try," he muttered softly before sitting at the table.
I stood next to him, waiting for him to try the food I made, but he didn’t touch it.
Five minutes later, all he did was stare at the food, so I had to ask, "Is it not to your liking?"
"Do you expect to eat everything by myself?" he asked in return, then pointed at the seat directly facing him with his chin. "Go and sit there. You have to finish this with ."
"Oh... right..."
It was actually quite a surprise for , because when I was with Miles, we rarely ate together. He would eat whatever I made imdiately without waiting for , because I would be busy doing this and that before I could even eat.
It felt weird eating with Ray in complete silence. As I slowly chewed the tender beef, I stole glances at him a few tis, hoping to see so reaction.
But he maintained a straight face until he finished his al, as if he neither liked nor disliked it.
"So, what do you think?" I asked.
"Reminds of the one I ate in a restaurant," he replied nonchalantly, then glanced at for a split second before adding, "It’s decent."
"Oh, thank God. You didn’t finish the pumpkin soup I made this morning, so I thought you didn’t like that one either."
"That one this morning was also decent," he replied. "If you want to change careers and beco a chef, then... I can help."
"A chef? Pfftt—!" I snickered. I didn’t understand the way his brain worked, but how could a housewife suddenly jump to becoming a chef?
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