CHAPTER 139
Lucian's head tilted, his gaze tracking the movement of her lips before he finally processed the words. "Your... assistant?"
The confusion in his voice was genuine. He, a Sovereign who had commanded legions and seen the rise and fall of empires, was being recruited to help with the morning's culinary endeavors.
Yes, he had made her breakfast before—but he had been in charge then. He was no one's assistant. In any other century, the suggestion would have been an insult; this morning, it felt like a death sentence wrapped in a velvet ribbon.
Isabella didn't let go of his arm, her smile widened, a mischievous spark lighting up her golden-white hair.
"Yes, an assistant. You can't just stand around looking all dark and mysterious while I'm trying to flip pancakes, Lucian. It's distracting. Besides," she added, her voice dropping into that playful, teasing tone.
"I think you need to learn some modern skills. Starting with how to not finish the salt on eggs."
