The Enticing CEO's Chosen Bride novel Chapter 1804

The food just now was too salty.

Winston calmly picked up his water glass, took a sip, and then proceeded to pick up other dishes.

Morrison caught sight of his actions out of the corner of his eye, and a cold snort emanated from within.

Winston put another bite of food into his mouth, and his facial features suddenly twisted in response.

Damn, that was sour.

Winston lifted his gaze to look at Morrison, who was calmly eating his own dish, occasionally nodding in acknowledgment, indicating that the taste was good.d2

Gritting his teeth, Winston went for another dish. Sweet, spicy, pungent, numbing, and even some bizarre fusion of flavors. Did Morrison drag the whole spice rack into the kitchen or what?

Winston spent the whole meal chugging water, nearly flipping the table in frustration.

Morrison, that stingy, infuriating man! He clearly cared, yet he resorted to these underhanded tactics.

Rose stood up and dished out bowls of soup for them all.

Winston watched the two of them take a sip before cautiously trying it myself. Finally, something that tasted normal.

The strange flavors of the dishes made Winston’s bowl of soup disappear at an alarming rate.

Rose, playing the gracious host, was clearly pleased, seeing it as a compliment to her cooking skills. She silently got up and refilled his bowl, placing it in front of him, "Eat up."

Winston could only stare, wondering if they were tag-teaming to mess with him. Morrison across the table smirked in an especially taunting manner.

Narrowing his eyes, Winston twirled his fork and pointed it at the plate of spicy buffalo wings in front of Rose.

"I'd like to try that. Mind if we swap, little Rose?"

"Oh, sure!"

Good manners were key, after all.

She didn't hesitate and started to switch plates with him.

Morrison's face had turned the color of soy sauce. He shot Winston a cold glare and as they successfully exchanged plates. Rose obliviously reached for the wings, and Morrison suddenly pressed his fork down on hers.

"What's wrong?" she asked, puzzled.

He swapped his plate of dish with hers. "You eat these."

Rose turned to him, still confused. "But these are spicy. You can't handle it."

Winston couldn't help but chuckle from across the table, "What's the matter, can't handle a little heat?"

Morrison's expression darkened. "I just don't prefer it," he claimed, picking up a popper and shoving it into his mouth.

The slightest twitch of his long, dark eyebrows betrayed him.

What on earth had he mixed into that? The spiciness was one thing, but the overpowering pepper...

Winston caught every bit of Morrison's reaction and laughed to himself. Served him right. And to think, he actually felt a twinge of sympathy for this Morrison at the doorstep earlier.

Rose sat beside them, her fingers sweating as she observed Morrison's subtle expressions. "Morrison, if you don't like it, don't eat it," she said, concern lacing her voice.

Morrison swallowed the popper with an air of indifference and followed it with a mouthful of rice. "Tastes fine to me," he lied.

Rose poured him a glass of water, still worried.

Winston arched an eyebrow, seeing her concern, and reached for another dish, "Rose, could you swap that smoked sausage casserole with me?"

"Uh... okay."

Rose went to exchange plates again, but Morrison intercepted the dish from Winston’s hands and slid another plate in front of her.

Rose was left speechless at his action.

Winston casually took the plate from her hands, with a faint smile on his face. "And this one too."

One by one, Winston kept trying to exchange dishes with Rose, only to be thwarted by Morrison each time. His face grew more thunderous with each attempt.

Eventually, Winston looked down at the completely changed spread before him and said, "Seems like we should have switched seats from the start. Had I known you were so fond of my selections, I would have sat next to Rose right away."

Sweat beaded on Morrison's forehead, and upon hearing his words, Morrison nearly jabbed his fork in his direction.

Insufferable!

Rose, noticing the tension between the two of them, reached for a dish in front of Morrison. As she lifted a piece of jalapeño popper, he knocked it down with a sharp tap of his fork.

She looked up at him, and he said with furrowed brows, "Don't... I haven't had my fill."

"If you like it that much, I can always make more for you another time," Rose said helplessly.

He clamped his fork onto hers and placed it back on the table, his demeanor cool. "I prefer this batch."

With no intention to insist, especially with a guest present, Rose let it go.

Throughout the meal, Rose talked to Winston about an upcoming product launch, hoping Winston would make an appearance. Morrison remained silent on the sidelines.

That was Rose's professional domain. Every sentence she uttered, every word, carried her own flexible tactics. It was the attitude and wisdom necessary for a company leader. He didn't fully understand what Rose was like at work before. Now, with just a few simple sentences, it seemed like he had gained a new understanding of her.

Though the work-related conversation was brief, it was clear he couldn't fit into their world, leaving him to brood over his indescribable meal, his mood growing stormier by the minute.

When dinner finally ended, Morrison hardly spoke another word. Rose didn't expect any help from him in entertaining Winston, so they left the table as it was and moved to the living room together.

Winston left the dinner party feeling like a million bucks. He'd stuffed himself with a feast, successfully made a fool of Morrison, and was ready for nothing more than a long, blissful sleep. It had been a perfect day in his book, so he didn't linger. After a short while, he bid farewell and hit the road.

Rose escorted Winston out, then closed the door behind him. Morrison remained seated on the sofa.