A few months later
Silvia sat on the two-seater couch with Ralph while Celia stood beside them, the two of them staring at the chef Ralph had brought like a horn had suddenly sprouted on his head the moment he walked into the house.
Celia was definitely drooling because she had never seen a hot chef with broad shoulders, pink lips, well-shaped lips—the kind you wouldn't want to let go of once you claimed them—and a sharp jaw. She had only seen handsome chefs in movies, not even when she went to culinary school. She scoffed at the thought.
Her eyes traveled to his hands. There was no way those hands had ever held a knife in their entire existence. They were too smooth and soft to have gone through that kind of stress.
Celia came back to reality when Silvia pinched her thigh. She glared at her for ruining her imagination.
How sure were they that he was even qualified as a chef? Did Ralph hire him because of his looks? Why throw away money when she could definitely be his wife's nutritio
