Chapter 140
Lionel sidestepped the approaching Cora and scanned the living room, then the dining room, his eyes landing on the spread of dishes on the table.
“The cook had the night off, so I made dinner myself,” Cora said, stepping forward eagerly. “Let me take your jacket, Mr. Rosenberg. You should eat p>
“You cooked this p>
Cora beamed. “I did. I even called my mom to ask about your favorite foods p>
The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, after all. Her cooking might not be perfect, but it was certainly better than anything Hannah could manage. She looked at Lionel expectantly, but his gaze was already wandering, searching for something or someone else.
“What are you looking for, Mr. Rosenberg? Let me help you. You must be tired. After dinner, I’ll go run a bath for you p>
She reached out to unbutton his suit jacket.
The sudden move made Lionel recoil. “What do you think you’re doing p>
“I was just helping you with your jacket so you can eat more comfortably,” she said, her shoulders slumping. Her eyelashes fluttered, a picture of wounded innocence. “My mom said you have a sensitive stomach and shouldn’t eat cold food. I was just worried, Mr. Rosenberg. I didn’t mean anything by it p>
Lionel’s brow furrowed. “Where’s Hannah? I haven’t seen her p>
The fact that he had been looking for Hannah since he walked in made Cora’s blood boil. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice sharp with resentment. “She left this morning and never came back p>
“Mr. Rosenberg, forget about her
an think about yourself. You’re half
Plater than usual. You must
be starving Please eat. I can bring a ate-night snack to your study later p>
Her concern was met with a glacial stare. His eyes were so dark, so cold, that she felt a shiver run down her spine. She swallowed hard, suddenly afraid.
“Cora, I am letting you stay here as a favor to Lily. You are a maid in this house. Correct your attitude. If I ever hear you speak ill of Hannah again, you’re out p>
He turned and headed for the bedroom, pulling out his phone to call Hannah. Cora stared after him, her eyes red with fury, and stomped her foot.
Hannah, Hannah, Hannah! What was so great about that woman? She was nothing compared to Cora. had cooked for him, waited for.
never do If Lionel had met her first she would be Mrs. Rosenberg now.
him-things Hannah would next
The injustice of it all was overwhelming. She ran outside to call her mother and complain.
In the bedroom, Lionel put his phone on speaker and began unbuttoning his shirt. The phone rang and rang, but there was no answer. He tried
again, and again. On the fifth attempt, she finally picked up.
She was standing on the street outside the restaurant, the heat from the charcoal grills flushing her cheeks. “What do you want?” she snapped.
Before Lionel could speak, he heard a man’s boisterous laugh in the background.
He froze, then picked up the phone, checking the name on the screen. It said Hannah. But the voice he had just heard p>