Galaxy's Only Triple-S: Five Lords Can't Hold Her novel Chapter 163

Chapter 163 The Sweetness Was Perfect

Chapter 163 The Sweetness Was Perfect

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Karl Dill, the admiral he’d called on, was in his early sixties-the oldest member of the Council. Unlike most of the lifelong bachelors around the table, he was only S-class, so he actually had a wife.

Every eye in the room swiveled to him at once,

Karl’s weathered face flushed slightly. He cleared his throat twice. “Uh… my situation’s not really the same

as this.”

“Experience is experience.” Darren pressed him. “You’re the only mated male in this whole room.”

Karl fumbled for words for a long moment. Finally, under all those eager stares, he forced himself to speak. “I was stationed on the front lines my whole career-thirty years straight in combat zones. By the time I retired and went home, I was already…”

He brushed a hand over his graying temples, “Long story short, my wife and I aren’t close. She prefers the other husband. He’s of a lower rank than I, but he’s around all the time. He’s smooth with words, and he can cook. Every time I go home, she treats me like a houseguest.”

An awkward silence fell over the council chamber.

A room full of SS-class men held all the Federation’s military and political power. They wrapped up a briefing on insectoid advances…. and moved straight to debating how to win over a woman.

Baar stared at the bunch of old men, a throbbing ache building behind his temples.

“So what’s your advice? Learn to cook?” Darren pressed.

Karl thought it over seriously. “Spend more time with her?”

Darren glanced back at Baar Baar stood up, face completely blank, and tossed his data pen onto the table.

“You have three days to finalize the frontline proposal.” He strode toward the door. “Meeting adjourned.”

Darren’s voice called after him. “Commander Iverson, what about the Federation’s offer for Lady Margaret

“I’ll ask her” Baar didn’t look back. “Figure out what she wants first, then see if you can afford it.”

At dinnertime, true to his word, Timothy was right on time. His starship touched down on the open lot behind the villa, and he came barreling into the living room before the engines had even fully cooled down.

“My Lady.” He practically tackled Margaret the second he walked in, nuzzling against her over and over. He only pulled back, looking perfectly pleased with himself, when he felt several icy stares landing on him from around the room.

“What’s that smell on you?” Margaret wrinkled her nose, but she didn’t push him away.

Timothy sniffed at his own shirt. “Starship fuel, probably? I hit an asteroid belt mid-warp today, had to

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Chapter 163 The Sweetness Was Perfect

pull an emergency course correction.”

Margaret glanced at him and bit back the urge to tell him to stop making the trip so often.

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Luckily, the villa’s dining table was big enough. Today’s lineup was a full house-total chaos waiting to happen.

The spread on the table was twice as lavish as usual, too.

Timothy sat down on Margaret’s left. In front of him was a full plate of hand rolls he’d ordered-made with deep-sea shrimp native to Valoranet Planet, wrapped in crisp, thin seaweed.

“I had the chef make this sweet soup from my mom’s recipe.” He pushed a bowl of what looked like pumpkin soup toward Margaret. “Try it, My Lady.”

Baar sat on her right. In front of him was a seared, juicy steak-medium-well, no sauce poured over top. It was simple and no-nonsense, just like him. There was a small dish of black pepper sauce on the side, but he never touched it the whole meal.

Cheiron sat diagonally across from her. He had a light seasonal salad and a cup of black coffee, no sugar.

Tyrone and Quentin sat across the table from Margaret.

When Blanc set their plates down, Margaret did a double-take. The two new residents had ordered food that was totally different from everyone else at the table.

Tyrone had ordered spicy sour pasta-maximum heat, plus three extra scoops of hot sauce on the side. Quentin only had a bowl of oatmeal with two small dishes of pickled vegetables.

Timothy craned his neck to peek at Quentin’s bowl, curious. His face twisted into a complicated look. “That’s all you’re eating?”

Quentin didn’t look up. He picked up his spoon. “It’s enough.”

Tyrone smiled at Timothy, “Don’t mind him. He’s been like this since he was a kid-a total picky eater, never enjoys food.”

In front of Margaret was a cheese-baked lobster. Half the shell was stuffed with stretchy, melted cheese and tender, juicy lobster meat. A small dish of truffle scrambled eggs sat next to it.

She took two bites of lobster, then sipped the pumpkin soup Timothy had pushed her way.

The sweetness was perfect.

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