Chapter 8
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The sudden voice from behind startled Olivia, and she knocked over the spaghetti on the counter. And then she cried out as the hot spaghetti slid onto her hand, the sauce spattering a bit.
Liam frowned and hurried over.
“I’m fine…” Olivia began, but Liam had already grabbed her wrist to check the burn.
She kept her eyes down, too nervous to meet his gaze.
“Do you always act like I’m the boogeyman whenever you see me?” Liam’s voice was calm, but it carried a hint of authority.
Olivia forced a smile. “It… it was just an accident.”
“Come with me,” Liam said, tugging gently at her wrist and guiding her out of the kitchen.
But Olivia quickly pulled her hand away, creating some distance. There were lines that shouldn’t be crossed as step–siblings, especially since Liam already had a fiancée. She knew that much.
For a moment, Liam’s hand grasped at empty air, and a flicker of something unreadable crossed his face. But soon he resumed his usual impassive expression. “Sit down,” he said sharply.
Olivia didn’t know what he was up to, but she didn’t dare argue. She quietly took a seat. Soon, she noticed Liam walking over to a nearby shelf, as if searching for something.
Before long, Olivia saw Liam come over with burn ointment. As he moved to help her, she quickly said, “Thanks, but I think I can do it myself.”
Liam hesitated, halfway to sitting beside her, and then casually moved to the couch across the room, keeping a comfortab’a distance.
“Liam,” she said, waving the ointment tube, “I’m good. You can go back to your room.”
But Liam paid no mind. He glanced into the messy kitchen instead. “Hungry?” he asked.
She was starving, of course. Her growling stomach was proof enough. Thirty minutes of effort had ended up on the floor, along with her pride and one painful burn.
Still, Olivia didn’t dare tell Liam the truth. She just forced a light laugh. “Just a craving. You know how it is.”
Liam didn’t say anything. He just walked to the kitchen. Olivia watched his back, her brow furrowing in confusion,
Her eyes widened as he reached for the apron and pulled it on. And soon he fetched some food from the fridge.
Olivia blinked, stunned. Liam was making her some food–this was just beyond imagination.
But then she thought, ‘Maybe he just feels guilty for startling me into spilling the spaghetti. Maybe this is his way of making it up to me.”
A few minutes later, a steaming plate of spaghetti was set on the table. “Come eat,” he said, his voice neutral.
Olivia hesitated, her response soft and distant. “Oh… Okay.”
She sat down, and the aroma of the dish hit her. She’d never imagined Liam could cook so well. She took a bite, and the flavors were incredible. She asked, “Did you learn to cook this well for Felicity?”
Olivia had only meant to break the awkward silence, but as soon as she spoke, Liam’s gaze seemed to turn cold.
