The Bad Guy(8)

19

When I went back at night, I was surprised to see that Samuel had learned how to cook.

In the past, he would either order a takeaway or heat a dollar-slice frozen pizza. It was his subordinates who sometimes cooked nice meals.

He made my favorite food, which was meatloaf and fried chicken.

"Mr. Carter, when did you learn to cook?"

"It's not that difficult."

"If it's easy, then why haven't you learned it in the past 31 years?"

"It's not that I didn't learn it. It was unnecessary."

"Is it necessary now?" I asked him with a smile.

He looked at me and said, "Hmm... It doesn't seem necessary."

I hugged him from behind and said, "Of course it's necessary. You made all my favorite food, so that means you've waited for me to come back to eat."

He grabbed a fork and pointed it at me. "Let go of me. Who said that they were for you?"

I held his waist. "No, I won't. My heart told me."

"If you don't let me go, believe me or not, I'll—"

"Will you hit me?" I looked at him with a smil