The Unveiling of Secret Queen

Chapter 520: Handsomeness is Not About Looks, It’s an Aura!_1

Nathalie Quinlan responded lethargically and walked over, pulled out a chair with a flourish and sat down, poured herself a glass of water, and guzzled it down with her head tilted back.

After a glass of cold water, her fuzzy senses became much clearer, though there was still a hint of sleepiness lingering at the corners of her eyes.

Alfred Garland saw her get up, and greeted her with enthusiasm, "Ms. Quinlan, you’re awake?"

"Mm," Nathalie put down her glass and rubbed her swollen head, feeling a tight string at the back of her head still taut and causing a sharp pain.

Audrick Zachmann was so preoccupied with teasing Edric Yancey about the gift he received and the jealousy it ignited, that he forgot to ask her about Jecksen Wilmar and how she got home last night, among other things.

On the other hand, Amadeus Yancey set down the book he was holding, stood up, and asked her, "What do you feel like for lunch?"

"Lunch?"

Nathalie blinked, still groggy from just waking up, and couldn’t respond immediately, her mind a blank.

Her long legs were casually draped, her elbows rested on the table, and she lazily propped her chin on the back of the chair, squinting like a wolf that had just woken from a deep sleep, completely relaxed.

"Anything’s fine."

These days, the hardest dish to prepare is ’anything,’ and Amadeus used to be lazy too; when asked what he wanted to eat, he would carelessly reply ’anything’ without giving it much thought. Now someone was giving him the same answer he used to give, and he understood the feeling of those he brushed off.

He felt a sense of karmic retribution, amusing and unexpected, but his mood was quite pleasant. He had only slept for three hours on the plane from yesterday to today, while Alfred was so tired that his eyelids were fighting to stay open; yet Amadeus looked energetic and unaffected, smiling as he said, "Anything, huh? That’s the hardest. Even sugar with tomatoes counts as ’anything,’ and if I make it, you won’t eat it."

Nathalie thought of the taste of that particular dish, overly sweet and cloying, and immediately frowned.

Luckily, Amadeus had only mentioned it casually, without any real intention of making sugar with tomatoes. He then slipped his hands into his pockets, his pale collarbones dazzling, deep black orbs reflecting her silhouette as he asked, "How about spicy chicken? I saw you really enjoyed that dish at the Imperial Hotel."

"That’s fine."

Hearing about the hot and spicy dishes raised Nathalie’s interest. She sat up with a porcelain-white face, tinged with skepticism, "You know how to make spicy chicken?"

"You’ll know if I can or can’t when you try it!" The man, doubted by her, raised his handsome eyebrows, his eyes deep, "I know more than you think."

Nathalie: ...

Ennnnn... Despite being a perfectly normal comment, why did she feel like there was a double entendre, as if she was being flirted with?

...

Amadeus was extremely quick at cooking, and in no time, three dishes and a soup were ready.

He came out last, carrying the spicy chicken.

"It’s time to eat."

He was wearing a thin sweater with an excellent cut, and now, leisurely rolling up his sleeves, he revealed a segment of his well-defined wrist, the accessory on his wrist bone extraordinarily eye-catching. The Buddhist beads complemented his aura perfectly, making for a delightful sight.

Nathalie involuntarily recalled a phrase often uttered by Lowie Wilmar, "Handsome isn’t a look, it’s an aura."

Before, she would’ve ignored such a saying, but now, seeing a certain someone, she suddenly found it insightful, especially appropriate for the man before her.

However, compared to the pleasing sight of the handsome man, the sumptuously presented plate of spicy chicken on the table was far more captivating.

The smell of Chili Oil and peppercorns made Nathalie’s stomach rumble with hunger.

Alfred served her a bowl of rice and handed her the chopsticks, saying, "Ms. Quinlan, try and see how it tastes."

Nathalie was never pretentious. Taking the chopsticks from Alfred, she went straight for her favorite dish, picking up a piece of chicken and popping it into her mouth. The chicken was crispy and spicy, fragrant without being dry, so delicious that she almost swallowed her tongue.