?Chapter 1292:

    She frowned. “No.”

    Eric tilted his head. “Why not? Aren’t you hungry?”

    She gestured to her borate headpiece. “Wearing this makes eating a nightmare.”

    Inside the box were delicate, handmade ravioli—pillowy pasta filled with savory meat and steeped in a rich broth.

    The smell alone made her mouth water.

    Eric chuckled. “You want some, don’t you? You and Joy both love this. Don’t worry—I’ve got a way.”

    Hadley looked at him, intrigued.

    With one hand holding the box and the other a spoon, Eric said, “I’ll feed you. You don’t have to move—just open your mouth.” He smiled. “Want to start with a sip of broth?”

    He remembered she usually preferred that.

    Hadley didn’t respond, but she didn’t protest either.

    Taking that as a yes, Eric scooped some broth, blew on it gently, and brought it to her lips. “Careful. It’s hot. Open up.” She did, sipping the broth quietly.

    “How is it?” he asked.

    “Good,” she murmured, her voice slightly hoarse.

    “Open wider,” he said, this time offering her a spoonful of ravioli. His eyes crinkled as he smiled.

    Hadley took it, her cheeks puffing up as she chewed.

    Eric chuckled again.

    “What’s so funny?” she asked with a yful re.

    “You’re cute,” he said, brushing his fingers against her cheek. “Joy looks just like you when she eats.”

    Hadley froze.

    That gentle touch—it reminded her too much ofst night.

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    “Have another sip…”

    And so, he fed her—broth, ravioli, alternating—until she was nearly full.

    “I’m done,” she said quietly.

    “Just two more,” Eric noted, peeking into the box.

    She shook her head. “I really can’t.”

    “Alright.”

    Without fuss, he ate the rest himself.

    When he set the box down, he noticed her staring at him.

    “What is it?” he asked.

    She frowned. “Why do you always eat my leftovers?”

    It wasn’t the first time.

    Eric raised a brow. “Is that a problem? I’ve had more than just your leftovers.”

    His words sent a flush rushing back to Hadley’s cheeks. She was grateful her makeup concealed it, but she still couldn’t meet his eyes. “Aren’t you busy? Don’t you have to get back to the city?”

    “I do,” Eric said, beginning to tidy up the lunch box. “I’ll be leaving soon. Since the meals here might not suit your taste, I’ve arranged for the hotel’s chef to prepare food for you. Your assistant will pick it up.” He would’ve preferred to hire a personal nutritionist, but he knew Hadley wouldn’t ept that—not yet.

    For now, this would have to do.

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