Diana Bell's hand snapped back from William Knight's abdomen.
Only now did she realize just how suggestive their positions were. As if possessed, her eyes drifted downward from his stomach for a split second, and her face instantly flushed a searing red.
She scrambled to stand up straight, nervously tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I... I bumped into Mr. Knight. I was just rubbing it for him."
Noah Bell let out a long, knowing, "Oh."
So that was it. He had thought it was that other thing.
Noah smirked and leaned in mischievously. "My arm just hit the table by accident, Sis. Why don't you give me a rub too?"
Before Diana could respond, William's narrow eyes hooded slightly. He spoke in a flat, cool tone: "I have plenty of strength. I'll rub it for you."
Noah ducked his head, shrinking back. "Never mind. I think I'd prefer my sister's gentle touch."
Diana shot him a sharp look. "That's just a scratch. Don't you have hands? Get out of the way."
Noah grumbled under his breath, "Well, the place Mr. Knight got hit wasn't exactly fatal either. Why didn't you let him rub it himself?"
Inside the pot, the water had begun to churn with white foam. Diana hurried to lift the lid, tossing in the washed tomatoes and timing exactly thirty seconds before fishing them out to peel them.
"I'm starting the main course now. Noah, stop being a nuisance and go find somewhere cool to stand."
Noah shoved his hands in his pockets and grinned. "Hearing that in the middle of a heatwave? That's not an insult, that's the most sincere form of sisterly care. Sis, you just love me too much."
He began belting out a loud, dramatic rendition of a love song, strutting away with a ridiculous, exaggerated swagger.
As Diana went to rinse the tomato juice from her fingertips, she caught a glimpse of the black plastic flip-flops on William's feet. They looked hilariously out of place on him.
Wait—didn't he look at those with total disgust and say he wouldn't wear them before we left?
Apparently, the mood swings of a cold, haughty aristocrat were more unpredictable than the summer weather.
Diana was efficient in the kitchen. Once the oil was hot, the minced ginger, garlic, and scallions hit the pan, releasing a bold, fragrant aroma. Without missing a beat, she slid the marinated beef slices into the wok.
With a few deft flips of the spatula, the beef seared perfectly, locking in the juices and releasing a rich, savory scent that filled the small but cozy kitchen.
William leaned against the doorframe. This was the first time in his life he had watched a woman handle the "grit" of daily life. He used to think kitchens were greasy, suffocating places, but watching her busy silhouette now, he found the view more captivating than any masterpiece at an auction.
He noticed two jars of bright red, extra-spicy chili sauce by the stove. "Do you usually eat such heavy flavors?" he asked softly.
Diana didn't turn around. "Yeah. Noah and I both live for spicy food."
The kitchen grew steamy. Soon, fine beads of sweat broke out across Diana's forehead.
Just as she was about to reach for a towel with her occupied hands, a damp cloth—carrying a crisp, forest-like scent—was pressed gently against her forehead.
William held the towel, meticulously dabbing away the moisture from her temples and the tip of her nose with immense patience.
His voice was low, carrying a hint of uncharacteristic apology. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let you labor over a hot stove. I should have taken you out."
Diana's heart skipped a beat under his focused gaze. "It's fine. We have the ingredients here. Adding one more person is just a matter of adding another bowl of water. It's no trouble."
However long she worked, he remained by her side. He repeatedly rinsed the cloth in cold water, carefully tending to her temperature.
Diana felt a strange tug in her chest. For a powerful patriarch like William Knight to stand in a kitchen without air conditioning just to keep her company... his composure was beyond what she expected.
But he seemed oblivious to the heat, simply watching her profile illuminated by the stovetop flames.
Before the noodles were ready, Diana reached for the bowls, only to feel a sudden coolness at her waist.
William had actually lifted the hem of her white T-shirt, pressing the cool towel directly against the small of her heated back.
His fingers moved through the towel, applying just the right amount of pressure as he wiped away the stickiness. Occasionally, his long fingers brushed against her side; the rough, warm contact felt like a tiny electric current racing through her entire body.
William pulled his hand back, his voice tinged with a strange sense of satisfaction. "There. Your back is clean now."
He leaned down, his god-like face hovering just behind her shoulder. His breath fanned against her ear and lips. "Still hot?"
"..." Diana went rigid. "N-no. Not anymore."
"Not hot" was an understatement; she felt like she was about to go up in flames.
As if he didn't notice her embarrassment, William added, "Does it feel good?"
Diana bit her lip, her voice barely a whisper. "...Yes."
William straightened up and casually smoothed out her shirt for her. "We are husband and wife. This level of intimacy is normal. It's okay if you aren't adjusted to it yet. We'll just do this more often in the future, and you'll get used to it."
Diana felt like a bomb had gone off in her head.
Was this man... actually being a flirt with a straight face, or did he genuinely not realize how provocative he was being?
Her heart hammered against her ribs. "You... you go sit down first," she pleaded.
If he stayed any longer, she wasn't sure she'd survive long enough to serve the food.
William arched an eyebrow. "You don't need me to carry the dishes?"
Diana shook her head frantically. "Noah can do it."
William nodded, his expression calm. "Fair enough. It's good for the youth to do some work."
Diana raised her voice toward the living room. "Noah Bell! Stop playing dead and come get the food!"
Noah shuffled over in his slippers, looking drained. "Does anyone have Apollo's number? It's so hot I'm melting. I need him to come back and shoot down the sun."
Diana deadpanned, "You're sitting right in front of the fan and you're still hot?"
Noah looked dramatic. "It's internal heat. I'm fainting from hunger."
Diana tapped the stove. "If it's too hot, don't eat. I'll take all the beef tonight."
Noah instantly perked up and grabbed the bowl. "Forget that! Beef is my only reason for living!"
Three bowls of vibrant tomato beef noodles were set on the table.
Looking at the two men standing there, Diana's eyes twitched.
William was in a crisp shirt and tailored trousers; even in a humble apartment, he looked like he was presiding over a global board meeting.
Then there was Noah, wearing nothing but a pair of bright red boxers, standing with his hands on his hips like he'd just finished a harvest.
One looked like a god from the heavens, the other like a local eccentric. The contrast was painful.
Diana rubbed her temples and shoved Noah. "Go put some clothes on."
Noah looked down. "I am wearing clothes. It's not like I'm streaking."
Diana grabbed a clean T-shirt from the sofa and tossed it over his head. "Put it on! If the soup splashes on your stomach and burns you, I don't have the money to send you to the hospital."
Noah hugged the shirt, looking moved as he pulled it on.
See? My sister really is the one who loves me most.
The three sat down, with Diana and William facing each other.
She felt a bit uneasy, worried that a simple bowl of homemade noodles wouldn't be up to the standards of a man like him.
The rich, tangy tomato broth, the chewy noodles soaked in meat juices, and the bright green bok choy—the presentation alone was mouth-watering.
William picked up his chopsticks, every movement carrying an innate, polished elegance.
The broth was thick and savory; the beef was tender and melted in the mouth. Every bite hit the spot perfectly.
Seeing him eat steadily, Diana asked tentatively, "Is it to your liking?"
William set down his spoon and looked up, a hint of a smile touching his eyes. "This is the best bowl of noodles I've ever had."
Even if she knew there was a bit of flattery involved, Diana couldn't help but beam. "Of course. It's the Bell family secret recipe—third best in the world."
Just as the words left her mouth, a thunderous slurp erupted from beside them.
"Sis, my stomach has officially upgraded to 128 gigs tonight. I feel like I could smash two more bowls!"
Noah demolished his first bowl like a whirlwind and wiped his mouth before heading back to the pot for seconds.
Diana pointed at him and sighed to William. "Welcome to the show. We call him the 'Human Vacuum'."
The corner of William's mouth curled. "He certainly has an enviable appetite."
In truth, William had already eaten a bit at a gala before coming over and wasn't actually hungry.
But looking at the girl across from him—her eyes bright and full of anticipation—he quietly finished every last drop of the soup.
Setting his chopsticks down, he naturally rolled up his sleeves, revealing his expensive watch. "I'll do the dishes."
Diana looked at him skeptically. "Mr. Knight, do those hands even know the difference between dish soap and shampoo?"
William shook his head honestly. "I've never done it."
Diana thought: I knew it.
William remained unfazed. "Never having done it doesn't mean I can't learn. I imagine it's simpler than handling a corporate merger."
Noah, having just finished his final gulp of soup, slammed his empty bowl down and let out a satisfied burp.
"William, you're the guest. You can't do the chores. Leave it, I've got it."
He deftly began clearing the table. "We have a strict division of labor. My sister creates the art; I do the cleanup. It's called sustainable development."
As Noah disappeared into the kitchen, the living room suddenly became quiet and heavy. The two sat there holding cups of rose tea, neither speaking first.
Diana glanced at the clock. 10:00 PM.
At this hour, anyone who was leaving would have left by now.
But he sat there, steady as a rock, with no intention of saying goodbye.
Is he... planning to spend the night in my bed?