Falling For My Accidental CEO Husband-Chapter 270: Knew It

"I knew it." Luca’s voice carried a teasing lilt as he stepped out of the kitchen onto the empty restaurant floor. His grin was as confident as ever, his hands casually wiping down a spotless towel. "I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist my good looks and would come back to see me again so soon." frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓

Serena shook her head, her lips curving into a faint smirk as she crossed her arms. "If people came here for your looks, you’d be out of business, Chef Luca," she retorted with playful sharpness. "I came here to eat, not to admire."

But even as she said it, Serena felt the telltale warmth creeping into her cheeks. She didn’t quite understand why, but ever since she woke up that morning, there had been an insistent craving gnawing at her. It wasn’t just for food—she’d already sampled everything on the hotel menu and had found nothing that truly satisfied her. And yet, the moment she thought of something truly delightful, the only name that popped into her head was his. After all, the souffle he’d fed her was the best she’d eated since waking up.

Okay, okay. You might have a point," Luca admitted, throwing his hands up in mock surrender, his smile never wavering. "If only I could earn a fortune with my devastatingly good looks, I wouldn’t have to slog away in the kitchen all day." He paused dramatically, then bent into an exaggerated bow, one hand sweeping out in a theatrical flourish. "So, what would my esteemed lady like to eat this fine morning?"

Serena couldn’t help but grin at his antics, shaking her head in amusement. "Anything is fine," she replied, her voice light but genuine. "I just want something good."

Luca straightened, casting her a brief look, his lips curving into a faint smirk. "Anything is fine, huh? Dangerous words," he teased, before turning and striding back toward the kitchen. As he stepped through the door, he pulled his phone from his pocket and typed a quick message to his friend: "Your sister is here for some food. Where are you? Do you want to join?"

The reply came almost instantly, short and characteristically blunt:

"No."

Luca stared at the screen, his expression caught somewhere between exasperation and amusement. "Why is he like this?" he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he pocketed the phone. Edwin, with his infuriatingly minimalist texts, would likely never change.

Letting out a resigned sigh, Luca turned his attention to the kitchen. He stood before the neatly arranged ingredients, his fingers hovering over a few as ideas swirled in his mind. Normally, inspiration came easily, flowing like second nature, but today felt... different.

For some reason, he found himself hesitating, staring blankly at the vibrant produce and fresh spices. His hands stilled, and an unfamiliar unease crept in. Was he—was he actually nervous?

The realization hit him like a flash, and his brow furrowed. He wanted to impress her. Not just with something good, but with something extraordinary—something that would linger on her palate and in her thoughts long after she left.

But it was breakfast time and if he could not come up with some tasty food, he had a feeling that this was the last time he would see this woman. Finally, his eyes fell on the most basic ingredient of all and cracked a couple of eggs with a practiced hand, the familiar rhythm easing some of his nervous tension. He worked quickly, preparing a simple japanese style omelette(tamagoyaki), adding a sprinkle of herbs and chopped bacon, and carefully folding it. The sizzle of the pan was soothing to his nerves, and soon enough, the dish was ready.

He plated it carefully and carried it over to Serena, his expression neutral, though inside he was already expecting her to do a little happy dance and maybe even hug him to thank him. "Here you go," he said, setting the plate in front of her.

Serena’s eyes lit up at the sight, and without missing a beat, she picked up her fork and dug in. The first bite was followed by a satisfied hum, but Luca’s eyes narrowed slightly as he watched her. Her smile was there, but something seemed off.

"Did you not like it?" he asked, his tone light but edged with concern.

Serena looked up, meeting his gaze, and shook her head. "No, it’s not that," she said quickly. "It’s just... something feels like it’s missing, that’s all."

Luca’s frown deepened, and before he could think, he reached for her plate, much to her shock. He speared a piece of the omelette and popped it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. After a moment, he looked at her and shrugged, a grin tugging at his lips.

"It’s perfect," he declared, his voice light but confident. "You just need to get past your picky taste buds."

Your omelette is too professional," she said with a hint of teasing in her voice. "While it’s good, I’m sure there’s something missing—something that, if added, would make it even more wonderful."

At her words, Luca froze for a brief moment, his mind racing. He had always prided himself on his omelette technique, but now that she mentioned it, there was someone who made a silkier version of this dish than he did. Someone who made the omlettes into perfect little bite sized golden pillows.

Maybe it was time to ask that stubborn bastard for his secret. He owed Luca a favor for teaching him the souffle recipe, after all. If there was ever a time to cash in on it, this was it. He wanted to woo a woman, just like Aiden had wanted to woo his woman.

"I’ll tell you what, come again tomorrow, Miss Serena. I wil let you have a taste of the best Japanese omlette ever."

Serena smiled as she finished the last of the omlette and pushed away the plate. "Thank you, Luca. I look forward to seeing what dishes you can come up wth. I’llbe here."

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