My Secret Husband Is My Cold Boss novel Chapter 52

Hearing this, Sampson walked straight to the cutting board with the potatoes. "I'm good at this. Let me handle it."

Cardiology dealt with minimally invasive procedures, whereas cardiothoracic surgery meant slicing open the chest.

It was Wendy's first time watching him handle a blade up close in a domestic setting.

A top-tier surgeon's hands wrapped around a knife were undeniably mesmerizing to watch.

She stood to the side.

Once he finished precisely dicing a potato, she reached out to plate it.

Her plate hovered in the air, but he didn't hand over the food.

He stared at her for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly. "Wendy, you weren't even this rigid the first time we met."

He had been observing her for a while, completely baffled as to why their increasingly comfortable relationship had suddenly regressed the moment they moved in together.

"If something is making you uncomfortable, just say it," he urged. "We have a long road ahead. Don't bottle things up."

In that moment, Wendy suddenly understood why Jade thought so highly of him.

She guessed he had wanted to ask this for a while.

Sitting down for a formal talk would have been too intense, so he deliberately chose a casual, everyday moment to ease her anxiety.

"I'm not bottling anything up," Wendy replied softly. "It's just the new environment. I need time to adjust."

It was a flawless, universal excuse.

But instead of nodding and changing the subject as she expected, he pressed on.

"Then what can we do to help you adjust faster?" he asked.

The directness caught her off guard, and she turned her head to look at him.

Having finished slicing the yams, he grabbed a paper towel, dried his hands, and met her gaze. He repeated, "How do we make you comfortable faster?"

If their previous weekly meetings had been about getting used to each other's existence...

Then his words today were a blunt declaration that he fully intended to make this marriage work.

Wendy's lack of confidence stemmed entirely from the glaring gap in their professional and social standing.

But if he was truly committed to building a real life together, she was willing to try.

She finished plating the washed vegetables and carried them to the dining table.

She tossed a plate of thinly sliced beef into the boiling broth.

The apartment was over three thousand square feet. Given his immaculate standards, tackling the cleaning themselves was completely unrealistic.

A housekeeper made sense, and it was an expense she could easily afford on her salary.

Wendy stood up, retrieved a debit card from her purse, and placed it on the table.

"I'll deposit half my paycheck into this account every month to cover household expenses."

They had agreed to split their finances equally before the wedding.

She wasn't about to ignore that arrangement just because he made astronomically more money than she did.

"Let's forget about splitting things."

It was a rare moment of him openly objecting to her terms.

He stood up and pulled a sleek wallet from his pocket.

"Handing over my income. It's a family tradition."

He extracted a black credit card and slid it over to her side of the table.

Without giving her a chance to argue, he seamlessly pivoted to the next topic. "And then there's the issue of our sex life, which clearly makes you the most uncomfortable..."