novelraw Chapter 708: Falling Harder And Harder
Chapter 708: Falling Harder And Harder
Seeing this interaction, Duncan’s face went pale.
He looked at Cassius’s expression—the tight jaw, the narrowed eyes, the clear desire to commit violence—and realized his mistake.
"I’ll be—I should—the kitchen!" He was already backing away. "The kitchen needs me! Yes! Very busy! Goodbye, my lord, my lady!"
He turned and fled, his belly jiggling with each panicked step.
Cassius watched him go, then sighed heavily.
He looked down at Maria, his expression sheepish.
"I’m sorry for lying, Maria."
She raised an eyebrow.
"It’s just..." He rubbed the back of his neck "...I’m not fond of showing off my achievements. It feels...shameless. Boasting about such things, especially to you is too much even for me..."
He trailed off, looking genuinely uncomfortable.
Maria stared at him for a moment.
Then she reached out and playfully slapped his arm.
"What are you talking about, Cassius?!" Her voice was warm, affectionate. "There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing to hide."
He blinked at her.
"I’ve spent so long in the capital." She continued, her expression turning serious. "I’ve seen what nobles are like there."
"When someone does something amazing, those nobles rush forward to take credit. They act as if they were the ones who did it, as if they were in charge of everything."
Her lip curled with distaste.
"They steal other people’s achievements without shame. Without guilt. It’s despicable."
She looked at him with a much softer, tender gaze.
"But you, on the other hand...you’re actually doing something that changes everything for the better."
"So, how could you try to hide it like that?! Isn’t that wrong? People like you should show off what they’ve done so that others can follow in your footsteps as well!"
Cassius felt like he was being scolded by his own mother.
But there was warmth in her words. Genuine care.
He gave in.
"Fine, fine. Next time, I won’t try to hide what I’ve done."
Maria nodded, satisfied.
Then he added, with a sly grin.
"But when I manage to make you my woman—when the famous Saintess of Compassion becomes my wife—I’ll shout it to the entire world."
"I’ll make sure every person on the continent knows."
Maria’s face went crimson.
"Cassius!"
She pinched his arm.
"Stop being such an irritating fellow!"
He just laughed.
They them made their way toward the restaurant, Maria’s excitement renewed now that she knew it was Cassius’s creation.
She assumed they would head toward the beautiful garden seating, but to her surprise Cassius turned toward the building instead—straight toward the kitchen.
She quickly grabbed his sleeve.
"Where are you going, Cassius? The seating area is that way. I want to sit over in the garden—there are empty seats over there."
She looked up at him eagerly.
But Cassius looked apologetic as he informed,
"Oh, sorry, Maria. I forgot to tell you that I’ll be in the kitchen making our dishes. You can go ahead and take a seat."
"What? Why?" Maria blinked. "Isn’t the whole point of a restaurant that someone else cooks for you?"
Cassius shook his head.
"That’s what I thought at first. But then I realized—if another man cooks for you, and you enjoy his food..."
He frowned, looking genuinely jealous.
"He would be stealing my attention. Stealing the affection that should go to me."
Maria stared at him.
"So I decided—I’ll cook for you myself."
She couldn’t help it. She laughed.
He was jealous. Of a chef. Of the possibility that she might enjoy someone else’s cooking more than his presence.
It was absurd. It was adorable.
She was about to tell him that it was fine, that she would be happy just sitting with him—
But then she remembered his cooking.
The maids had raved about it. The sisters had spoken of it with reverence. And she had tasted a few of his dishes herself, during her stay at the mansion.
Her mouth watered at the memory.
She didn’t want to deny herself that pleasure.
But she also didn’t want to be separated from him.
"I have an idea." She said, her eyes bright.
Cassius raised an eyebrow.
"You can cook." She smiled. "But I’m coming with you. I want to watch."
He tilted his head.
"I’ve always wanted to see how you cook. What special sauces you add. What secrets you use to make everything so delicious and this is the perfect time!"
Cassius considered this for a moment.
Then he nodded.
"Come along."
They pushed through the kitchen doors together.
—
The kitchen was chaos—beautiful, organized chaos.
Flames roared from stoves. Frying pans hissed and sizzled. Chefs moved in practiced harmony, chopping vegetables, stirring pots, seasoning dishes with the precision of a symphony.
The moment Cassius entered, heads turned.
Every chef, every cook, every kitchen hand stopped what they were doing and bowed.
"Young Master!"
My lord!"
"Good morning, Young Master."
Their smiles were genuine, their respect obvious.
And as they straightened, they sneaked glances at Maria—curious, appreciative, wondering who the beautiful woman at their master’s side might be.
Meanwhile, Duncan spotted Cassius and went pale.
He rushed over, his belly bouncing with each step, and practically threw himself at Cassius’s feet.
"My lord! I’m so sorry!" His voice was desperate. "Please don’t fire me! I beg you! I didn’t mean to—I wasn’t thinking—please, don’t take this job away from me!"
Maria stifled a giggle.
Cassius sighed.
"Be quiet, Duncan. No one is taking your job."
Duncan looked up, hope flickering in his eyes.
"Instead." Cassius continued. "Tell me—did you prepare everything I requested? Are the ingredients ready?"
Duncan scrambled to his feet, nodding frantically.
"Of course, my lord! Everything is ready! Right over there!"
He pointed to a workstation set apart from the others—clean, organized, covered in ingredients that had been measured in advance.
Cassius nodded approvingly.
"Good. Now get back to work."
Duncan bowed and scurried away, leaving Cassius and Maria alone by the workstation.
Maria looked at the ingredients, then at Cassius.
"So." She said, rolling up her sleeves. "Where do I start?"
Cassius raised an eyebrow. "You’re helping?"
"Of course I am!" She grabbed an apron from a hook on the wall. "You didn’t think I was just going to stand here and watch, did you?"
She tied the apron around her waist and looked at him expectantly.
"Tell me what to do, Chef."
Cassius stared at her for a moment—this beautiful woman in her beautiful dress, wearing a flour-dusted apron, looking at him with those bright, eager eyes.
He smiled.
"First, wash your hands."
She did.
"Then—" He handed her a knife "—start chopping these onions."
Maria took the knife and set to work without hesitation, her cuts precise and even. Cassius watched for a second, then continued.
"After that, these tomatoes—nice, even dice, nothing too small. And once you’re done, move on to these chives. Keep them fine but not minced to dust."
She worked fluidly, the blade flashing as she sliced the onions into perfectly uniform pieces, then moved on to the tomatoes and chives with the same careful rhythm.
When she finished, she stepped back and wiped her hands on the apron, looking up at him proudly.
Cassius’s eyes widened in genuine surprise.
"Wow, Maria...I wasn’t expecting you to be so good at cooking. Those cuts are beautiful—clean, consistent, restaurant-ready."
She puffed out her chest with pride, the motion causing the apron to pull tight and push her already generous cleavage forward in a glorious, eye-catching display.
"Of course!" She said, completely unaware of the effect she was having. "Even when I ran my own church, I used to make large meals for the homeless. Hundreds of portions at a time."
Cassius raised an eyebrow.
"Honestly, I was terrible at first." She laughed, the sound bright and self-deprecating. "I made so many mistakes. The food was barely edible. Even the hungry people hesitated before eating."
Cassius chuckled, imagining a younger Maria, flustered and frustrated, staring at a pot of something that was supposed to be stew but looked more like...something else.
"But the more I cooked, the better I got. Now, I’d say I’m a decent chef."
"We’ll see about that." Cassius said, his eyes twinkling.
They then went on to work side by side, moving in an easy rhythm that felt almost domestic.
Cassius called out instructions—"a pinch more salt." "stir that counterclockwise." "taste this and tell me what it needs"—and Maria followed fluidly, her earlier confidence translating into competence.
But while Maria worked, she also watched.
Cassius was...mesmerizing.
He moved through the kitchen like he belonged there, like the flames and the sizzling pans and the clouds of fragrant steam were extensions of his own body.
He chopped vegetables with blinding speed, each slice precise and even.
He flipped pans with casual flair, sending ingredients arcing through the air before landing perfectly back in the heat.
He seasoned dishes by instinct, tasting, adjusting, tasting again until everything was exactly right.
She realized, with a quiet thrill, that she couldn’t even begin to compare to him in this.
Yet she didn’t mind.
The image of Cassius completely focused on cooking was dreamy: a faint sheen of sweat on his brow from the heat of the stoves, the black vestments of a church father somehow making the scene even more endearing.
He looked like a strange, captivating blend of identities—chef, holy father, nobleman, and unrepentant playboy all at once—and the mixture was utterly enchanting.
Maria caught herself staring at him many times, knife paused mid-chop, wondering how one man could contain so many sides and still feel so perfectly right.
She had to force her attention back to her own work each time, determined not to ruin even a single dish.
Soon they had prepared a generous spread—just for the two of them—more than enough to satisfy even the hungriest appetite. Maria smiled with satisfaction and reached for the plates to begin plating, but Cassius gently caught her wrist.
"Hold on, Maria. Leave the plating to me."
She looked at him, confused.
"I want to do something special." He explained, a hint of shyness in his voice. "Something just for you. So let me handle this part."
Maria’s curiosity flared, but she didn’t argue. She untied her apron, hung it on its hook, and headed for the kitchen door.
But something caught her eye.
She paused, turning back to look at the kitchen staff.
There were women everywhere.
Not just one or two, but over a dozen of them.
They manned the stoves, chopped the vegetables, seasoned the sauces. They moved with confidence and skill, their faces set in expressions of concentration.
There were only three or four male chefs in the entire kitchen.
Maria had never seen anything like it. Cooking was traditionally a male-dominated field—women might cook at home, but in professional kitchens, men ruled. It had always been that way, everywhere she had ever been.
She turned back to Cassius.
"Cassius." She called. "Why are there so many women in here? Did you make it this way on purpose, or were there simply no male cooks available?"
Before Cassius could answer, Duncan appeared at her elbow, his face alight with fawning admiration.
"Oh, no, my lady!" He shook his head vigorously. "There are plenty of male chefs we could hire. More than plenty!"
He gestured at Cassius, who was studiously ignoring the conversation, his face slightly flushed.
"But our Young Master—our extremely compassionate Young Master—he made a different choice."
Maria listened intently.
"He wanted to help women who had been divorced. Women who had lost their husbands. Women who had no way to support themselves or their children."
Duncan’s voice was full of reverence.
"So he gave them positions here instead."
Maria looked surprised.
"Some of them already had cooking experience, of course. Those ones fit right in."
Duncan nodded toward a woman who was flipping pancakes with practiced ease.
"But others? They had never cooked professionally in their lives. They didn’t know a saucepan from a stockpot."
He spread his hands.
"So the young master put them through classes. Taught them himself, sometimes. And now—" He gestured around the kitchen "—they’re top-tier chefs. Some of the best I’ve ever worked with. I’m rather proud of them myself."
The kitchen staff, who had been listening while pretending not to, straightened their shoulders and lifted their chins. Their faces glowed with pride.
Maria turned to look at Cassius.
He had turned away from her, focusing intently on his plating, his ears slightly red. He was clearly embarrassed by the praise, uncomfortable with being caught doing something good.
She smiled.
It was not a small smile. It was not a polite smile.
It was a beautiful, radiant, heart-stopping smile that lit up her entire face and seemed to fill the kitchen with warmth.
A chef behind her gasped.
Another hissed in pain, having accidentally cut his finger while staring at her.
A third dropped a pan with a clatter, having burned his hand on a hot surface because he had been too busy gazing at her face to pay attention to his work.
Maria didn’t notice any of this.
She was looking at Cassius.
She had already held such a high impression of him, yet he never seemed satisfied—he kept stealing more and more of her heart with every quiet act of kindness.
She couldn’t help the loving, almost tender look that filled her gaze as she stared at him.
Cassius noticed the passion in her eyes and grew slightly flustered.
"Shoo, shoo, Maria." He said, waving her off with a playful but embarrassed grin. "Go away. I’m trying to prepare this here. Just go back to our seat. I’ll be there in a second."
Maria simply shook her head, a soft, affectionate smile still on her lips as she turned to leave.
But as she walked out of the kitchen, a quiet realization settled over her like a gentle weight.
Today was going to be much more difficult than she had initially thought. She had planned to spend this time with Cassius simply to settle his heart, to let him enjoy her company for one day before they each returned to their separate lives.
Yet right now, resisting him felt impossibly hard.
A deep turmoil stirred inside her chest—what exactly should she do?
With every passing second she felt herself falling for him more and more, and she honestly didn’t know if she would be able to pull herself back up again.