Betrayed by the Father Reborn in His Rival's Arms novel Chapter 289

"Is this what you need?"

He had spotted a few unlabeled spice jars on the top shelf.

"Yes!" Madeline nodded.

Quentin was incredibly tall; without breaking a sweat, he plucked all three glass jars down and placed them right next to her hand.

"Thank you..."

She turned back with a smile, only to realize how seamlessly she had ended up pressed against him.

Their bodies were flush against each other, their breathing so intertwined it felt as intimate as a kiss.

"The cabinets here are so high," she murmured, her cheeks dusting with a soft pink as she desperately grasped for a topic.

Quentin didn't say a word. He remained perfectly still, his heavy, predatory gaze tracing the curve of her lips.

He was practically staring at her mouth.

Madeline grabbed one of the spice jars. Unsure if it was the right herb, she popped the lid open and brought it closer to inspect.

Suddenly, the pungent scent of the spice hit Quentin. Whatever it was, it immediately tickled his nose.

Madeline watched as the usually cold, unyielding Quentin frowned, his eyes narrowing slightly while a faint flush crept up his neck. That rare, unguarded look was incredibly... evocative.

"By the way, you never told me—what do you want to eat?" she asked, setting the jar down and looking up at him again.

"Anything is fine," he murmured.

"Then I'll get started?" She looked at him. His face was still a bit flushed, looking delightfully intoxicated without a drop of alcohol, a stark contrast to his usual icy demeanor.

Quentin agreed softly again.

Yet, he didn't move an inch. Finally, Madeline whispered, "Your leg is trapping mine."

When he had stepped up behind her, his dress shoe had slotted perfectly between her feet.

He was literally caging her against the counter with his thigh.

Hearing her quiet protest, Quentin slowly pulled back, his movements laced with a reluctant, lingering heat.

He craved this kind of proximity; it brought him an unparalleled sense of comfort. But as soon as he let go, his little butterfly immediately fluttered away.

He felt a dark, primal urge to snatch her back and hold her tight.

Even though he knew she wasn't going anywhere.

He still fought the intense, possessive instinct to lock her permanently against his chest.

But he couldn't exactly act on that right now.

She was busy making him dinner.

Madeline wasn't entirely sure what his preferences were.

She had no memories to pull from, but considering he had lived abroad for so long...

He was probably more accustomed to Western cuisine.

So she decided to prioritize a Western menu.

Regardless of the style, she poured her heart into the preparation.

She had a brilliant culinary intuition, ensuring every single step was executed with absolute precision.

The final dishes were guaranteed to be a masterpiece of flavor and presentation.

Because she refused to cut corners, the process took a little time.

But the feast she was preparing was incredibly lavish.

The island was fully stocked with a phenomenal array of fresh seafood.