Chapter295
Ivan pushed open the kitchen door.
The busy chefs hastily set down their work, tensely greeting him, "Sir."
"Everyone out," he commanded, his voice cool and authoritative.
The chefs exchanged glances, promptly understanding, and filed out, quietly sliding the kitchen door shut behind them.
The oven hood's noise had kept Haley oblivious to the chefs' departure. She was chopping away. "We're on to the onions next, right? Should I cut them on a bias or..."
Mid-question, a bunch of onions was offered to her from an angle.
The hand holding the onions was well-defined, elegant, almost sculptural.
Haley looked up sharply, taken aback. "Mr. Ivan, what brings you here?"
Ivan's reply was calm. "I'm here to learn a thing or two about cooking."
"Why bother learning that?" Haley continued to slice, slightly amused. "With all the chefs the Winston family employs, you'd never need to cook."
"Last night, Angela got hungry, and I cooked her some spaghetti," said Ivan, a smile playing on his lips, a hint of joy in his voice. "It was my first attempt, but Angela was kind enough to finish it all, suggesting I might just have a knack for cooking."
Haley paused, slightly stunned.
'This man cooking spaghetti?'
Now, there was an image that was hard to picture.
She turned her head slowly, casting her gaze upon the man's face, noticing a faint line that graced his chin. There was also a mark on the back of his right hand, looking like it had been splattered with oil. She had spotted it the night before but hadn't thought much of it.
Her lips pursed slightly. "Did you tend to it with some ointment?"
"Does it even need any?" Ivan brushed it off casually. "It'll heal on its own in a few days."
"It might scar if you don't treat it," she cautioned, feeling it would be a shame for such a scar to mar his handsome face.
Haley wiped her hands and asked, "Where's the first aid kit?"
Ivan turned and pulled open a drawer above the cabinet. "I believe Alfred mentioned that we keep burn cream in the kitchen."
He retrieved a small box and opened it, revealing a variety of medications neatly arranged alongside disinfectant and band-aids.
Finding the burn cream, Haley unscrewed the cap, dabbed a bit onto her fingertip, and looked up. "Ivan, could you bend a bit so I can apply this for you?"
Obediently, Ivan bent at the knees.
She leaned in closer. Her fingers, cool and gentle, glided the soothing cream across his chin.
Her eyes were focused, his reflection appearing deep within her dark pupils as if he filled her entire world at that moment. Applying ointment was a routine act for her, something she often did for her two kids, so she found nothing inappropriate in her movements.
However, when she felt the heat of his gaze on her face, suddenly, the act of tending to Ivan's wound seemed charged with an unintended intimacy.
They were less than two inches apart, the sound of his breath clearly audible. She could even feel the warmth of his exhalation, which sent her heart into an uncontrollable rhythm.
Thump, thump, thump!
Her heartbeat pounded with such ferocity that Haley instinctively stepped back.
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