From His Wife to His Uncle's Wife novel Chapter 90

She thought she’d done pretty well with dinner tonight, but she still wasn’t sure if the CEO would like it. Max had probably tasted every fancy dish in the world. What if her simple home cooking just didn’t cut it?

Max just nodded and said, “Looks good.” He glanced at her, his voice calm. “I’m going to change. Thanks for making dinner.”

Eleanor watched as he walked away, the black suit making his broad shoulders look even more impressive. When he disappeared from view, she turned her attention back to the kitchen, making sure everything was perfect.

About forty minutes later, she set the last bowl of soup on the table. Finally, she could relax. She wiped her hands on her apron, just as Max came out of his room wearing deep blue silk pajamas. The V-neck was so low she could see the edges of his chest muscles. He still looked a little damp from his shower and smelled fresh, like citrus. His hair was only half dry, and a few droplets of water slid down his sharp jaw and disappeared under his collar.

He caught her staring for a second. She looked away, feeling her face heat up.

“Ms. Rolland, is there something on my face?” Max’s tone was teasing.

Startled, Eleanor shook her head quickly. “No, not at all.”

She kept her eyes down. “Dinner’s ready, Mr. Clarkson. If there’s nothing else, I’ll just head back now.”

She was about to leave when his hand closed gently but firmly around her wrist. “Don’t rush off. There’s so much food. Sit down and eat with me.”

Eating with Max felt weird. She wasn’t used to it. “Are you sure that’s okay?”

She’d always thought of herself as just the help, like a nanny who cooked and cleaned.

Max raised an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t it be? My nanny always ate dinner with me.”

With that, she didn’t feel like she could refuse. She sat down at the table.

There was only one steak, but Max sliced it in half and placed a piece on her plate. “I don’t eat much at night. Help me finish this.”

They shared the steak and pasta, each with a bowl of creamy soup. Eleanor tasted her food and realized it was actually pretty good tonight.

After they finished, Max leaned back and gave her a rare smile. “That was great, Ms. Rolland. Your cooking is just as good as my nanny’s.”

“My mom’s birthday is coming up. Every year, she complains my gifts are just expensive and thoughtless. I was hoping you could help me pick something she’d actually like. Could you come with me?”

Eleanor almost said no, but then remembered she still lived in Max’s discounted apartment. She swallowed her hesitation. “Sure. If I’m free, I’ll go with you.”

Max’s eyes softened. “Great. Get some rest. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Eleanor echoed.

She closed the door behind her and shook her head, feeling weird.

Wasn’t it a little early to say goodnight at eight o’clock?

And honestly, when did she start saying goodnight to her boss?