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The kitchen he had cleaned so meticulously was now a mess, and a pot on the stove was on fire.
Isla stood there, obstructive, holding a spatula in one hand and a lid in the other, clearly unsure what to do next.
Ronan stepped forward, turned off the gas, and glared at her with a cold expression. Each word dripped with barely restrained anger. “What are you doing?”
Isla blinked at her smoke–stung eyes and explained calmly, “J–just cooking.”
Ronan switched on the exhaust fan, his dark gaze lingering on her for a moment, before grabbing her and pulling her out of the kitchen.
Ten minutes later, the smoke gradually cleared.
Rowan emerged from the kitchen.
Isla realized she had made a mistake and felt slightly embarrassed.
After a moment, she carefully took out a hundred dollars from her pocket. “Here I came back a bit late, there was nothing to eat downstairs, so I thought I’d cook. I used two of your eggs. If you’re upset, I’ll pay you back.”
She knew Rowan’s current conditions were far from ideal. Using his eggs recklessly was wrong, and she had already planned to compensate him.
Ronan’s expression was difficult to read. “You seem even dumber than I imagined.”
Isla paused, withdrawing the money from her fingers, her expression a mix of helplessness and explanation. “I’m a Beaumont family daughter. Never touched a hand to work or cook in my life. It’s not strange that I can’t cook.”
She actually had the nerve to defend herself.
Had she returned later, she was certain Ronan would have suspected she’d set the kitchen on fire.
He remained silent, but his eyes grew colder as he stared at her.
Suddenly, he stepped closer, towering over her. “Isla, from now on, you’re not allowed in my
kitchen.”
Isla paused, letting out a faint sigh. “Sorry, if it bothers you, I can pay half the rent.”
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After all, he had no intention of marrying her, and she had no intention of marrying him. Without a document, she couldn’t get a divorce yet. He was just a pitiful discarded man—she wouldn’t exploit him. Economically, she could still help.
Upon seeing her generous expression, Ronan’s lips twitched. The way she spoke made him look petty as a man.
Did she really think he forbade her from using the kitchen because she didn’t pay rent?
Then she added, “I don’t like eating out. The kitchen is necessary. Of course, if you don’t mind cooking a little extra, I can also pay for the ingredients.”
Ronan rolled his eyes.
He wondered if it was still possible to just pack this woman up and throw her out.
In the end, Isla didn’t get to enjoy a meal cooked by Ronan and settled her hunger with takeout.
The atmosphere between the two was awkward, and over at the Beaumont family, all hell had broken loose.
Aurora, Julian, and Cora had returned from the Ellsworth family, happily expecting a calm evening, but the news of Isla’s return almost made them explode with anger.
“She actually dared to say that and even demand ten million?” Julian gritted his teeth.
Aurora burst into tears, feeling wronged. “How could this happen? I really didn’t know anything. It’s all my fault, Mom. Please, let Isla come back. I can’t let her keep
misunderstanding me like this, or I’ll feel guilty for the rest of my life. And if this gets out, I won’t even be able to face anyone, boohoo.”
Cora was furious. “That brat dares to threaten her own family. No wonder we were too soft on her.”
Julian also wanted nothing more than to teach Isla a proper lesson, but she wasn’t home, so he couldn’t confront her directly. After all, in this matter, they were clearly in the wrong.
If it weren’t for Aurora saving the Ellsworth heir, things would have been easier to handle. But now, Ronan’s mother was satisfied with Aurora and intended for the marriage alliance. If any negative news about their daughter got out, it would be highly disadvantageous for them.
Julian’s face darkened. “She’s dreaming. Even if it’s ten million, I won’t give it.”
Ten million was nothing compared to the future of Aurora.
Still, he was unwilling to be threatened by Isla in such a manner.
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Three years ago, she should have just died.
A gleam of determination flashed in Julian’s eyes.
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The next morning, Isla woke up to a pleasant aroma.
Half–asleep, she wandered out of her room, following the scent until she reached the dining table.
Steam rose from a bowl of soup, and the savory smell of a meat pie filled the air.
She blinked in disbelief. Could she be seeing this correctly?
There was food on the table this early in the morning?
Last night’s takeout had been terrible, and she hadn’t eaten much, leaving her stomach growling.
She was standing there when a displeased voice sounded behind her. “What are you standing there for?”
Isla turned and saw Rowan towering in the kitchen doorway. She froze.
Glancing at the food he held in his hands, she was surprised. “You can cook?”
“Of course, it’s me. If it’s not me, then was it you?” he retorted.
Isla’s
eyes widened. She stepped closer, taking in the meal–it looked visually appetizing and aromatic. She rubbed her fingers together nervously. “Can I eat?”
Ronan was stunned for a moment.
He had forgotten that someone else was in the apartment, so the breakfast he prepared was only for himself.
Seeing the hopeful look in her eyes, he found it difficult to refuse.
After all, he couldn’t let a woman just stare at him while he ate.
“Just this once,” he said, silently resolving never to let her eat breakfast here again.
He didn’t have a habit of serving others.
“Thank you,” said Isla.
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It was the first time Isla had seen him, and her initial impression wasn’t great.
But a man who could cook certainly earned some points.
She washed up briefly, sat at the table, and picked up her fork.
Ronan looked away, silent, acting as if she didn’t exist.
“What do you do for work now?” came her calm voice.
Ronan paused, cold eyes scanning her. “And?”
“Just curious.”
Ronan glanced at her slightly pale face. His tone was cool. “Don’t worry; you won’t starve.”
Isla was silent for a moment before replying, “I have my own job. I don’t need you to support
me.”
Ronan rolled his eyes. When did he ever say he would support her?
If Isla weren’t useful, he truly would have sent her back by now.
After breakfast, Isla praised him heartily. “You cook really well. You weren’t a chef, were you?”
Ronan stumbled slightly entering the kitchen, nearly falling. “Mind your own business.”
Isla chuckled brightly, feeling good, and went back to her room.
She had classes at Cloudie University today, and Logan was likely headed there too.
She changed clothes and stepped out of her room.
Coincidentally, Ronan was preparing to leave as well.
Their eyes met once again.
Ronan wore simple sportswear, yet his perfectly proportioned figure made even this casual outfit look designer–like.
Interestingly, he wore shades of light gray, and Isla had chosen a pale gray dress with lace trim and a cinched waist, making her appear slender.
Her thick, pale yellow hair was tied high, revealing a delicate face and slightly upturned, alluring eyes. Her skin was flawless and fair, making her look no older than an eighteen–year- old college student.
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