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Chapter 846 What If I Give Myself to You... As Reparation?
"Oh, he's right, Miss McKinnon! I just remembered that I have a lot of work cut out for me. I guess I can only try
your cooking some other time."
With that, Sam left. Brendan turned to Deirdre’s deadpanned stare and said placidly, "He knows he's too busy to
quietly and slowly enjoy these simple things in life. I'll have to do."
Of course, Deirdre knew Brendan had threatened Sam into leaving. "It's a big pot of soup, for crying out loud. Can
you finish it by yourself?” "I can," Brendan replied under his breath. "If you're the one who made it, then I'll drink it
all."
Deirdre thought Brendan was exaggerating, but it turned out he made do with his promise, after all. It even
shocked Mrs. Engel by the time she returned to the mansion. Brendan was not known for his appetite, which had
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtonly grown smaller after his injuries.
Deirdre drank about half of her own portion and believed that there was nothing especially delicious about her
soup, anyway.
Brendan pulled her into his arms when they were done and said, "Let’s do it again next time.”
Deirdre feigned a glare. "Am I your cook?”
He bit her fingertip. "Let me make it for you instead if that upsets you. I'm sure I've more or less learned how to
make it after watching you." "Pass.” Deirdre still felt her body trembling in fear whenever she thought of the soup
Brendan made. She would rather starve herself than drink a drop of his stuff. "I'll make it if it means nobody gets
poisoned today."
Brendan looked moved, but the twinkle in his eyes quickly dimmed. Gazing into her eyes, he said, "How am I
supposed to make it up for you? Maybe I should give the rest of my life to you as reparation. That way, I can treat
you and our child right."
He smoothed her hair with his fingers, and his silent vow sounded almost too sincere. Deirdre froze and felt her
heart surprisingly heating up.
She turned away. "Dream on, Brendan Brighthall. I'm never falling into your trap anymore."
The days passed. Brendan’s work seemed to have caught up with him-he would often stay in his study for the entire
day. Mind-numbing ennui had begun to torment Deirdre, so she told Mrs. Engel she wanted to go out for a change
of scenery.
Mrs. Engel replied hesitantly, "Let me ask Mr. Brighthall first, okay?"
Deirdre nodded. The man was the master of this house, after all.
Mrs. Engel made her way upstairs. A moment later, Brendan walked out of his study and tucked a lock of Deirdre’s
hair behind her ear. "Wanna go out?" "It's boring to stay at home for the whole day. Besides, I think I might have
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been eating a lot more lately. My clothes are starting to feel a little too tight."
Brendan considered the woman's body. She used to be so petite, but now, she looked much healthier and plumper.
He controlled his impulse to feel her and nodded.
Those viral searches and the discourses they brought should have died down considerably for the past two days,
right? Deirdre would be fine.
"What time are you coming back?" "About 4:00 or 5:00 p.m., maybe. I won't take long." "Okay." Brendan leaned
forward and grazed her lips with his own. "I'm in the middle of something, so I won’t be able to keep you company.
Call me when you're done, okay? I'll take you home." "Okay."
Brendan turned to the older woman and told her to be mindful of the crowd.
The two of them left.
Mrs. Engel found the entire exchange quite amusing, so she remarked," You know, Mr. Brighthall seemed to be in
the middle of a meeting when I went inside. It was so serious and grim there! Then I told him it was about you, and
he instantly closed his laptop like the whole meeting was dismissed!"
Deirdre imagined Brendan, in his most presidential manner behind the desk, suddenly breaking character because
Mrs. Engel walked into his study. It felt so comical the corner of her lips curled.
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