Chapter 56: The Tyrannical CEO

It turned out that earlier that morning, when Claire arrived at work, the strange looks from her colleagues weren't just because of her promotion to the CEO's assistant. They had all found out about her crush on Lucas Zeller.

Oh no… Could Lucas know about this too? Sarah, with her big mouth, had really gotten her into trouble this time!

"Miss, we've arrived at Maplewood Street," the taxi driver suddenly said, pulling her out of her spiraling thoughts.

Startled, Claire quickly gathered herself. In her nervousness, she accidentally bumped her burned right hand against the back of the taxi seat, causing a sharp pain to shoot through her. She winced and inhaled sharply before managing to tell the driver, "Please take a left here and continue straight."

A few minutes later, the taxi arrived in front of the Zeller residence. Claire paid the fare and stepped out, making her way to the front door. She reached into her bag to find the keys, but after a moment of searching, she realized she hadn't brought them. That's right—Lucas had been the one to lock the door when they left this morning, and she'd forgotten to grab her own set. He had left work earlier than she had, and it was already late in the evening. He should be home by now, right?

She rang the doorbell several times, but there was no answer. Just as she was starting to think Lucas might not be back yet, the door suddenly swung open.

"You actually remembered to come back?" A deep, angry voice snarled down at her, making Claire flinch as her neck reflexively shrank back. She looked up to find herself staring into a pair of dark eyes brimming with anger.

Wait—why was he so mad? Was it because she was late and hadn't prepared dinner yet? That must be it. Maybe he was hungry, and it was already so late.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I'll make dinner right away!" she stammered, stepping past him to rush into the house. But just as she entered, Lucas grabbed her by the shoulder, stopping her in her tracks.

"Now you remember dinner? If I'd waited for you, I would've starved to death by now," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

What? Then what did he want her to do? Claire turned her head and looked at him, completely puzzled.

"Go sit at the dining table. I've already made dinner," he said shortly before letting go of her and walking off—but not toward the dining room.

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Claire sat at the table, her eyes wide with surprise as she stared at the beautifully plated dishes—five perfectly crafted dishes and a soup.

"Surprised?" Lucas's lazy voice broke the silence. A moment later, a large hand gently grasped her left hand, and she felt a warm sensation surrounding her palm.

Startled, Claire turned her head to look. Lucas was carefully wiping her hand with a warm, damp towel, cleaning her palm, her fingers, and even meticulously wiping between each of her fingers with careful attention.

"Mr. Zeller, I can do it myself," she said, embarrassed, trying to take the towel from him.

"Are you an idiot? Your hand's burned, and you're still trying to act tough?" Lucas shot her a glance, holding her right hand with careful tenderness. But when his eyes landed on the back of her hand, where the skin had peeled, his expression suddenly darkened. "The blisters on the back of your hand weren't popped before. Now they're not only burst, but the skin's peeled off too?"

"Huh? Really?" Claire looked at the back of her hand, trying to recall what had happened. After thinking for a moment, she remembered. "Oh! It must've happened when I accidentally hit my hand against the taxi seat earlier. I got startled by the driver, but it doesn't hurt too much."

"Were you asleep in the car or something? How does a driver startle you like that?"

"No, I was just lost in thought," she said without thinking, then quickly covered her mouth with her other hand, realizing she had said too much.

"What kind of expression is that?" Lucas asked, staring at her like she was some kind of odd creature. "It's not like I'm going to eat you. Now sit down and eat," he said, setting the towel aside before moving to sit across from her.

"Mr. Zeller, did you make all of this?" Claire asked, still in awe of the perfectly arranged dishes that looked not only beautiful but also incredibly delicious.

Lucas raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable, as if silently asking her what her question meant.

"Oh no, I didn't mean anything bad by that!" Claire hurriedly clarified, realizing how it might have sounded. "I just thought everything looked so beautifully done, and the food looks amazing. I assumed you might've hired a professional chef to come over. I didn't expect you to be such a great cook… Mr. Zeller, you're really amazing." She forced a smile, hoping her praise would smooth things over so he wouldn't get mad again.

As she hoped, Lucas's expression softened, and the corners of his mouth even curled into a faint smile, the tension between them easing just a little.