Chapter 34
Chapter 34:
Colin remained rooted to the spot, his gaze fixed on Brinley’s retreating figure, his eyes shadowed with a stubborn refusal to let her go.
Beside him, Milly noticed the desolation etched across his face, a pang tightening in her chest.
She slipped her fingers around his sleeve and tugged lightly, her voice trembling with practiced gentleness. “Colin, my stomach feels a little off… Can we leave now p>
Her words pulled him back to the present. Meeting Milly’s fragile, almost pitiful expression, the hardness in his stare eased.
“Let’s go home,” he murmured at last.
He placed a steadying hand on her shoulder and guided her out of the hall.
Days later, Hillcrest Villa carried the scent of simmering broth and freshly chopped herbs.
In the kitchen, Brinley moved briskly between stove and counter, sleeves rolled up, the clatter of utensils filling the air.
The real estate project that had been slated to launch in the second half of the year had suddenly hit a roadblock. The Housing and Urban Development Department had put it on hold, citing a missing quality assessment report. With the approval process bound to stall for a while, she gave her staff an early holiday, keeping only a handful on duty at the company.
𝖶𝖾 𝗎𝗉𝖽𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗄 𝗈𝗇
The oven timer rang, cutting through the moment.
Brinley tugged on an oven mitt and pulled out a tray of cookies. Their edges were blackened, the smell bitter and scorched. With a sigh, she dumped the ruined batch into the trash.
Stuck at home with nothing to occupy her, she had started dabbling in recipes, but every attempt ended in disaster.
Yesterday’s mushroom soup had been so salty it was inedible. Today’s cookies were nothing but charred crumbs.
“Need a hand?” Austin’s voice drifted in from behind her.
She turned to find him strolling in wearing casual clothes, his damp hair still tousled from a shower.
Brinley turned just in time to see him head straight for the counter. He plucked up one of the least ruined cookies, cracked it open, and inspected it with mock seriousness.
“Wow, these are… something else. What do you call them? ‘Charcoal briquettes’?” he teased.
“If you’re hungry, there are sandwiches in the fridge,” Brinley grumbled, clearly annoyed.
She snatched the cookie from his fingers and tossed it into the bin, then tore off her apron with a scowl.
From the moment the project was suspended, she had watched Austin come home earlier each day, sometimes spending entire weekends sprawled in the living room with company files scattered around him.
On top of that, the villa’s chef and housekeeper had both been put on medical leave by Austin just the week before.
Now, as she watched him casually sample the lopsided slices of fruit she had just struggled to cut, it dawned on her—he had orchestrated this on purpose.
“Actually,” Austin remarked, spearing a chunk of apple and chewing with deliberate leisure, “I think your cooking has a kind of everyday warmth to it p>
He arched a brow, a playful gleam flickering in his gaze, before adding, “Honestly, it’s more satisfying than a Michelin three-star dinner p>
Brinley rolled her eyes. “I know it’s bad. Your comfort is unhelpful p>
She folded her arms, narrowing her eyes as he polished off the last slice of apple and even dared to sip her bitter melon drink.