Chapter 591 Pasta in the Night

Walter hurried out of the car, fumbling to pay the taxi fare for Meryl.

But when he turned around, Chandler had already pulled Meryl into his Porsche and driven off.

Left behind in the chilly wind, Walter felt utterly helpless.

The taxi driver, still lingering, tipped his cap with a smirk. “Need another ride, young man?”

Walter could only sigh in frustration.

Meanwhile, Chandler had settled Meryl into the passenger seat of his car, carefully buckling her seatbelt.

Then he hit the gas, and the Porsche roared down the road.

Meryl sat quietly, trying to steady her emotions.

But her stomach betrayed her, growling loudly in the silence.

Chandler glanced at her, his expression unreadable.

He had planned to drive straight home, but halfway there, he made a sudden turn. They pulled up outside a small restaurant.

Chandler took Meryl’s hand and led her inside. The staff were busy cleaning up.

“We’re closed. The kitchen’s already shut down for the night.”

Chandler glanced at the clock on the wall. It was nearly 10 p.m.

Hearing the news, Meryl turned to leave.

But Chandler stopped her.

His composed demeanor, paired with his tailored suit, radiated an effortless charm.

He looked at the waitress and asked, “Do you have any ingredients left?”

The waitress blushed slightly under Chandler’s steady gaze. “We do,” she admitted.

“Would it be possible for us to use the kitchen ourselves?” Chandler’s voice was calm and polite.

The waitress was charmed by his appearance, but she maintained her senses. She hesitated, biting her lip. “Well…”

“My wife is pregnant,” Chandler explained, his tone gentle. “She hasn’t eaten yet tonight, and she’s craving something from your menu. Please, help us out.”

The waiter bit her lip, knowing it was against the rules, but faced with Chandler’s earnest plea, she couldn’t refuse.

“All right, but you’ll have to leave the kitchen the way you found it. And don’t tell my boss.”

“Thank you,” Chandler said with genuine warmth.

The waitress turned off the security cameras and led them to the kitchen.

Chandler pulled out a chair for Meryl and gestured for her to sit and wait.

Through the glass wall of the dining area, Meryl could see Chandler in the kitchen.

She watched in surprise as he tied on an apron and started cooking with practiced ease.

In just over ten minutes, he emerged with a plate of pasta that looked as delicious as it smelled.

Meryl couldn’t help but feel her irritation start to fade.

She rested her chin on her hands, trying not to smile. She scolded herself silently for being so easily swayed. She really didn’t want to let one meal soften her resolve.

“Eat this for now,” Chandler said, handing her a fork he had carefully sterilized. “If you’re still hungry, I’ll whip up some more from the fridge.”

Meryl didn’t respond. She had calmed down, but she wasn’t about to show it.

She took a bite of the pasta and was startled by how good it tasted.

She wanted to ask Chandler why he was with Rachel tonight but felt that if she were the one to speak first, it would be like giving in to his control.

She swallowed the words on the tip of her tongue and focused on eating.

Chandler had made the sauce himself, and it was far better than she had expected.

Her appetite returned with a vengeance.

Seeing Chandler sitting across from her, not touching his food, she frowned. “Why aren’t you eating?”

Chandler lowered his gaze. “I’m too angry to eat.”