George kept staring at Abigail expressionlessly.

The woman moved the plates closer to herself and kept eating as if nothing had happened. However, as the vibe the man was giving off was too imposing, she eventually could not bear it, put down her chopsticks, stood up, and fetched another set of tableware for George.

The man pointed at the empty bowl superciliously, ordering, "Serve me some rice."

With that, he moved the vegetables closer to himself and began to eat.

If Abigail were not starving, she would have left the scene after patting the table.

She compromised and added a bowl of rice for the man. "Here you are, Mr. Gates!"

George took the bowl with satisfaction and ate it gracefully.

He was a man who would never allow himself to get hungry. Though he did not want to taste the dishes made by Abigail, he had to fill something into his stomach as he had not had dinner before coming here.

Unexpectedly, the soup was quite delicious. He finished two bowls of it and even tried the kelp in it, which he had always refused to eat before.

George looked at Abigail with a slight wobble in his eyes.

The woman's complexion was pale and smooth, and her features were delicate. The way she was having dinner was elegant and demure. As some hair fell before her eyes, she lifted one hand to tuck them back to the ear.

Her ears were not pierced, looking like flawless jade, and her earlobes were pale and pinkish.

The man simply wanted to nibble at those ears and therefore felt thirsty and hot.

Feeling embarrassed at his own idea, George took his eyes off Abigail.

...

After the meal and putting the tableware into the dishwasher, Abigail planned to get back to her bedroom. Surprisingly, George followed her up.

She did not take it seriously until he followed her to the doorway of her bedroom. She cast a cold glance at the man, asking, "Have you forgotten that you didn't feel anything the last time you held me for a night and that you've told Grandpa that we're incompatible in sex? Why are you following me now? To have a chat on the bed? Or do you want to exchange the bedroom with me again?"

She seriously doubted that there was something wrong with George this night.

It was so weird.

"Mrs. March will move your stuff to my apartment," George said, looking at the woman's injured finger, and added, "As for the work, I'll arrange another assistant for you soon."

Moving to his apartment? Caring about her work? George had to be mad!

Trying hard to tamp down the urge to feel his temperature to see if he was having a fever, Abigail lifted her head to look into the man's eyes, asking, "Do you know what you're talking about?"

The man narrowed his eyes, giving off a slightly cold vibe.

Abigail shrugged and then refused in a grave tone of voice, "No matter why you've asked me to move into your apartment, I'm telling you, I am not moving. Also, I can deal with my work and need no assistant at this moment."

Even if she did need an assistant, she would not accept a person arranged by the man. He must have a hideous purpose.

There must be some hidden agenda behind his abnormality!

He was probably waiting for her to get into the trap prepared by him.

Taking a step back, she reiterated vigilantly, "President Gates, I appreciate your kindness. But I really don't need that. Please don't force it on me, okay?"

The look in her eyes clearly displayed her distrust and vigilance against the man.

Besides, there were apathy and aloofness.