Chapter 301 If You Want Something, Go Get It Yourself
"Is it really any of Mr. Hearst's business to ask if I'm happy with someone? That's my private life, nothing to do with work. Plus, we're not partners anymore, so stop acting like you're still my client. Or has Mr. Hearst been a client for so long that you're used to bossing around the service providers, always talking with that attitude?" Ashley snapped.
Damian watched her lips move. She was so thin and fragile that he could probably crush her with one hand, yet when she got mad, she thought she was some kind of warrior, daring to lecture him like that.
What was even weirder was that Damian wasn't mad at all. He rubbed his temples, feeling a bit helpless, "Ashley..."
"What?" she shot back.
Damian lowered his hand, feeling like he was looking at a pet that suddenly got bold and wanted to challenge him. It was a strange mix of heartache and anger. "You're something else."
Ashley pursed her lips and walked past him.
Damian watched her take over the house like she owned the place and felt utterly powerless. 'Are all women like this? Or is it just you who dares to act this way?'
The villa's interior was almost the same as before, with sleek and simple lines, but it could be seen the designer's effort and the owner's taste everywhere. Complex designs might get boring fast, but the art of simplifying complexity could stay charming for a long time, becoming more appealing the more one look.
Ashley was annoyed with herself for even thinking about Damian's taste at that moment.
Even if he had taste, he was still a ruthless, heartless jerk.
When changing into slippers, Ashley paused because she saw a pair of women's slippers in the shoe cabinet, which was otherwise filled with men's shoes. One pair had been worn, and though they were spotless, the signs of use could still be seen.
The new spare slippers inside were all the same color and size.
But they weren't her size.
Her shoes were really uncomfortable, but she didn't want to wear slippers prepared for someone else by Damian.
She looked away, not glancing at the shoe rack again, and stepped a black footprint onto the soft, pure white Persian carpet.
The black mark on the white fluff seemed to awaken something inside her, and she wanted to make more marks. So she deliberately walked around, pacing back and forth, leaving countless footprints on the carpet.
Damian changed into slippers and walked into the living room; the first thing he saw was those glaring footprints.
He ran his long fingers over his brow bone, "On purpose?"
Ashley seemed to notice her misdeed, "Sorry, I dirtied your carpet."
Damian was both amused and annoyed, "If you're really sorry, help me clean it. But you can't use water; wipe it off with a towel."
Ashley felt a gust of defiance and stomped a few more times, "Mr. Hearst, you're rich and won't trouble a guest over a carpet. Besides, you dragged me here, and I didn't ask to come."
Damian sat on the large sofa, his expression stern and unapproachable, "If you don't want to clean, then make a meal to compensate."
Ashley sneered, "I can't cook."
Damian seemed to have expected that, "There's no takeout here, nor any restaurants. Even if you don't want to cook for me, won't you eat?"
Ashley glanced down at her stomach. She hadn't had dinner yet, and after all this drama, the lunch she had was long gone. "Do you even have ingredients here?"
Damian shrugged, "Go check for yourself."
Ashley wandered around the massive kitchen, opening every cabinet and peeking into the fridge. When she came back, she scoffed, "Mr. Hearst, you expect me to whip up a meal with just rice and flour? There's not even a single vegetable. And who knows if the rice and flour are even good anymore."
Damian asked, "What kind of vegetables do you need?"
Ashley was about to mock him for his arrogance, but then she realized something. There were no vegetables inside because, behind the villa, there was a neatly cultivated garden with all sorts of fruits and veggies, all organic.
Damian stood on the clean garden path, "Pick whatever you need."
Ashley looked at the variety of vegetables, feeling a bit overwhelmed. If she had these skills, Harold and Amelia wouldn't have mocked her.
'Wait, are those scallions?' She ran her fingers through the lush, clean rows of scallions, pulled out a few, and confidently walked back.
Damian watched her return with just scallions, "That's it?"
"That's it," Ashley replied.
Damian didn't have high hopes for dinner anymore.
Ashley followed the steps Amelia had taught her, scooping flour, adding water, stirring, and then adding chopped scallions, salt, and a bit of seasoning.
Damian looked at the unappetizing batter in the bowl, "What is that supposed to be?"
"Pancakes, never seen them?" Ashley said.
Damian resisted the urge to facepalm, not wanting to kill her enthusiasm, "Self-taught?"
"Amelia taught me," Ashley said.
Damian leaned against the open kitchen counter, his tall figure more elegant than any designer ornament, his face more tense than usual, "Have you made it before?"
Ashley recalled the steps, afraid of messing up, "No, this is my first time. Eat it if you want; if not, don't."
"First time..." He repeated the words like he was savoring a new dish from a fancy restaurant.
Ashley shot him a disdainful look, "What? Afraid I'll poison you? Don't worry, I'm eating the pancakes too. If I wanted to poison you, it wouldn't be today."
Damian still stood there, his casual posture hard to ignore, "If you wanted to poison me, it’d be easy. If you didn't bring any, just pick a few oleander flowers from the garden."
Ashley finished mixing the batter, her face stern, "Can you leave?"
Her cooking skills were terrible, and she often made a mess, especially with new recipes. She didn't want Damian to see the chaos.
Damian smirked but didn't push it, "Take your time."
He walked through the spacious hall to the spiral bookshelf, opening a compartment, taking out a book, and opening the cover. His eyes were on the pages, but he wasn't really reading.
His ears were tuned to the kitchen sounds.
The fire started, the oil was heating, and the batter was sizzling.
From the sound, it seemed okay.
But soon, Damian frowned. Didn't Ashley know to flip it?
Couldn't she smell the burning?
He wanted to help but didn't want to hurt her pride, so he continued to wait.
The house rarely had cooking, but the range hood was a full set of intelligent systems. She must have been quite something to let the burnt smell reach the living room with such strong suction.
Should he have remodeled the kitchen or let Ashley give up cooking altogether?
Ashley suddenly screamed.
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