First time cooking

Aron POV

"Good morning, Mr. Finge." As soon as she saw me exiting the elevator, she got up from her seat.

"Give me a bandage, Selena." I ignored her seductive outfit as I made my way to my office.

"Are you all right, Mr. Finge? She trailed behind me, seeming concerned when she noticed my limp.

"Yes, I am perfectly fine. I want a bandage." I took a second to look at her figure-hugging clothing.

For the first time, I was irritated when I observed her in a tight dress that accentuated her curves despite my previous fondness for this style.

Didn't she feel suffocated in that tight shirt?

She believed that I would make a seductive comment about her figure-hugging outfit and excessive makeup, but I was not at all interested in her.

I turned on my laptop and became lost in my work, trying to push away the terrible memories from the last night.

"Mr. Finge, your bandage." She knocked on my door.

"Thank you; now, please send me the pending task list so that I can prioritize my work schedule properly." I stared at the laptop screen, motioning for her to place the bandage on my table.

"Mr. Finge, do you need anything else?" I can tell by her seductive tone exactly what she wants to give me, but can't she see that I'm not interested in her anymore? Even her attractive cleavage, revealed by her shirt's open button, does not appeal to me. My junior won't have the courage to fuck another woman for at least a week due to the excruciating pain he experienced last night.

"Selena, don't you hear me properly? I asked you to provide me with the pending client list." I cast a chilly glance at her.

"I apologize, Mr. Finge." She bowed her head, terrified by my icy look.

I let out a peaceful sigh when she finally left my room.

After last night, I felt uncomfortable near any woman. All the women I met were filled with lust, but Sara was different. She made me feel at ease. I looked at my burned finger and smiled, remembering the morning scene.

I made a healthy and delicious breakfast for her since I didn't want her to eat anything unhygienic when she was sick with a fever. This helped me overcome the guilt I was feeling.

For the first time in my life, I went into the kitchen to cook.

I learned how to make omelets with the help of YouTube. I have to say that being a cook is a very hard profession. Compared to cooking, managing a multibillion-dollar corporation is easier for me. Sara must be extremely talented because she can prepare delectable meals, just like my grandmother.

When I tried to make an omelet after seeing a YouTube instruction, the first two eggs slid out of my hand and onto the floor. I managed to make an omelet after five tries, but I was so proud of myself that I forgot to flip it over. I flipped it with my finger in an attempt to stop it from burning.

My finger burned from coming into direct contact with the hot pan. I wanted to taste my prepared breakfast, but I didn't have the time or strength to prepare another omelet, so I decided to surprise her with my cooked omelet. I couldn't wait to hear her review of my cooking abilities. I was flattered when she said how good my cooking was.

I'm not sure why, but every time I see her in pain, my heart aches. My chest ached from something. I felt a strange connection with her. I sensed that she was attempting to tell me something through her silence, even when we weren't talking.

"Aron, it was fun last night. See you next week."

My phone popped up with Aunt Jerry's message.

The news that she was going on a weeklong vacation made me sigh with relief.

I was attempting to complete my work ahead of schedule to have some spare time to read her published book once more and learn the truth about Uncle Joe. She once told me that she occasionally talks about her painful experiences to find relief from the anguish that makes her cry; therefore, I'm sure she has talked about Uncle Joe in one of her stories.

However, she has written so many books that I have no idea which one I read about Uncle Joe. Finding out the mystery between Sara and Uncle Joe is what motivated me to put all other work on hold to satisfy my curiosity about her past with him.

I flicked through her portfolio of published works. The book "My Uncle's Hidden Face" captured my attention and left me wondering why I had never seen it before. I've read her bestselling book, so how am I supposed to miss this one?

I searched for the platform on which this book is available. Because the platform has already closed, I can't read this book. I called the publishing houses because I am determined to read this book. I requested a copy of her book, and they said that their publishing house had burned down many years before, destroying all of their data.

Shit, now where can I find this book? Frustrated, I pounded my hand on the table, aggravating the pain in my burned finger. I know that no matter how hard I try to get information from Sara, she will never give it to me; therefore, the only way I can find out Uncle Joe's secret is to question her about this book.

Just as I was about to make a phone call to Sara, her call came through.

"I was about to call you, Sara." My face lit up with a smile when I saw her number flash on my screen.

"Aron, why did you take these injections and pills?" Fear tightened my throat when she asked a question.

How did she come across those pills? I switched on my bedroom's CCTV right away.

Shit.

She opened the right drawer to find the painkiller. How could I be so careless? What should I tell her now? My worst fear is that she will criticize me for being honest about my sexual addictions, so I can't tell her the truth about my life.

"Aron, why are you not saying anything?" My mental bubble burst upon hearing her voice. I swallow hard to generate enough courage to respond to her.