Chapter 823
Childish
Emelie loved Eastern cuisine. During her three years in Faldoria, she mostly ate Eastern food. Wesley, who had lived abroad for over a decade, was accustomed to Achelean food.
However, whenever they dined together, Wesley would always accommodate Emelie's preferences. He always ensured that the Eastern chefs in the estate prepared the meals.
This meal was also pure Eastern cuisine. There was steamed fish, garlic and vermicelli shrimp, braised pork ribs with chestnuts, fish in spicy pickled broth, tomato and potato stew with beef brisket, and black pepper ribs.
There were all hearty dishes, prepared to make up for the hardships Emelie had endured in recent days.
However, William smirked after taking a look at the spread.
He asked Emelie, "Do you not eat here often?"
"What?" Emelie responded.
William served her a bowl of soup. "The kitchen doesn't even know you don't eat spicy food."Please check at N/ôvel(D)rama.Org.
Out of the ten dishes, six were spicy.
He was implying that Emelie wasn't familiar with the Denning Residence, and by extension, not familiar with Wesley either
Wesley remained calm. Mr. Middleton, you think you're clever, but there's a limit. Why not taste the food yourself first and see if it's spicy?"
The chefs knew the right amount of chili to use. They preserved the dishes' original flavors while ensuring Emelie could enjoy them.
"We're getting married next month, Mr. Middleton, and you still think I don't know Emelie's taste? That's presumptuous to the point of being laughable."
Wesley was usually good-tempered and rarely spoke so sharply to anyone. However, just as William frowned at the mere mention of Wesley's name, Wesley's dislike for William was equally intense.
Wesley placed some vegetables on Emelie's plate. This was her must-have at every meal.
The butler added softly. "Mr. Graham doesn't eat spicy food either. The chef is well aware of that."
"Oh? So Mr. Graham doesn't eat spicy food," William remarked coldly. "It seems like your tastes are passed down through generations."
The term 'passed down through generations" could be referring to their shared hometown of Capebatt City, implying similar tastes. Yet, it could also suggest a blood relation.
Wesley's gaze turned cold, colder than a March's chill.
William picked up a shrimp, carefully removing the garlic paste and peeling it before placing the meat in a small bowl. Then, he handed it to Emelie.
He said, "You've always been particular. You love shrimp but hate getting your hands dirty. If no one peels them for you, you won't eat them."
"That's why all the shrimp at Denning Residence is prepared for easy eating, so Emelie can help herself. Mr. Middleton, you should mind your own business and not go overboard," Wesley said.
Emelie was rendered speechless. These two men seemed determined to argue over anything, the tension between them was impossible to ignore.
Since there was no sign of them stopping, Emelie pinched the bridge of her nose and stood up. "Jodie, have something simple sent to the study. I'll eat there."
She wasn't interested in playing a mediator for them. They were adults and CEOs of massive corporations.
Yet, here they were, bickering like schoolchildren. Anyone unaware might mistake them for three-year-olds.
They could continue arguing if they wanted to. Emelie couldn't care less. Her mind was a mess right now, and she had no energy to deal with them.
As soon as she left, the two men fell silent.
Jodie glanced at them before signaling the staff to bring over a tray. Then, she served a little of each dish. William watched and said, "The fish has a lot of small bones. Don't give her any, or she might choke when she's multitasking. And skip the shrimp too. It can get a bit fishy when cold, and she doesn't like that."
Jodie couldn't help but look at William.
It wasn't that she thought that he was more attentive than Wesley; she was just surprised to see this considerate side of him. It didn't match the image she had of him as a cold, ruthless man who would even kill his wife just to further his own interests.
Jodie didn't respond but followed his instructions, then she carried the tray upstairs.
This left the two men alone at the dining table. Neither of them left. Instead, they ate in silence, facing each other.
Even the butler couldn't help but hold his breath. He sensed the tension growing and the atmosphere becoming increasingly dangerous.
Suddenly, William broke the silence. "Kingston Pierce."
Wesley didn't react at all.
After nearly a minute, he finally looked up, his gaze as sharp as a blade. "Who are you calling, Mr. Middleton?"