Alicia glanced around in awe, her eyes sweeping over the elegant spread on the island—the golden, freshly baked bread still letting off gentle steam, crystal bowls filled with something soft and glistening like jam, artfully arranged cheeses and vibrant fruits, and from the stove, a savory dish simmering slowly, wrapping the air in a warm, mouthwatering aroma.
"You made all this?" she asked, blinking, half expecting the scene to vanish like a dream.
Adrien leaned lazily against the island, arms crossed, a smug curve to his lips and one brow arched in that infuriatingly cocky way of his. "What, surprised? Didn't think I could cook?"
She stepped closer, folding her arms with a teasing glint in her eyes. "Honestly? No. You strike me as the type to burn water and call for backup."
He gasped, hand over his heart like she'd just mortally wounded him. "You wound me, princess. Straight through my pride."
