It was Saturday, Cierra's sixth day since she had transmigrated into the book. Just as she thought about celebrating her first full moon, another message notification sounded.
Yesterday, a rare day without a mission, she and Cynthia held hands and spent the morning at a fresh produce supermarket, then had a sumptuous lunch at a restaurant, followed by a movie, before returning home contentedly.
As a person who had transmigrated into a book, aside from her restricted career and family background, which could not be altered, all other trivial matters were at her discretion as the female lead.
If every day after transmigration could be as carefree as yesterday, as long as she didn't think about being a supporting character, she believed she could live very much as she pleased.
"Sigh!"
It was too carefree. She realized how easily adult life could sap one's will, she had nearly forgotten the domineering aura of being the number one student in high school, born to be a king.
Speaking of domineering, what was domineering?
"I will pick you up at ten." That was what it meant to be domineering!
Sending a message out of the blue saying he'd pick her up at ten, didn't he consider that people had their own lives and could be on call all the time?
Cierra was somewhat displeased but could only drag her languid body to wash up and get dressed, boarding Basil's car promptly at ten o'clock.
Basil remained composed and taciturn, but Cierra found that she had grown accustomed to it. After all, this man had been an inscrutable adult since their first meeting, except for those occasional affected fake smiles.
"Mr. Logan, may I ask what the plan is for today?"
"To my house."
"To your house? What am I supposed to do?"
"Nothing."
"So I'm just a decoy then?"
Cierra turned her head to glance at the middle-aged man driving next to her, pouting as she said, "Mr. Logan wouldn't be up to something, would you?"
Basil raised his eyebrows and gave the woman beside him a once-over, his look seemingly mocking: With your lightweight, kindergarten-grade physique?
Because the sarcasm in Basil's eyes was quite strong, Cierra was embarrassed to the point where her neck and ears turned red. Despite having cursed him countless times in her heart, she couldn't storm off in frustration because he was her employer.
The car sped toward a villa in N town, stopping halfway at a supermarket.
"It's almost noon," after getting out of the car, the chill and unwelcoming aura that the older man exuded transformed into mist and dissipated in front of others, leaving Cierra, who was standing nearby, speechless once again.
He pushed the grocery cart in front of the two of them, his voice low and gentle, "What do you want to eat later?"
Since they were too close, the man's fresh scent wafted into her nostrils. Cierra's face flushed red, and she subconsciously jumped a step to the side, only to feel it was inappropriate. At this moment, the paparazzi were probably lurking around a corner watching them! She pretended to smile, but it looked a bit forced and grim, "I'll eat anything."
"Eating anything means you can cook, right?" Basil's beautifully arched, elongated eyes swept over the corner of her eye and her hair, making her feel guilty.
Cierra felt that he was definitely doing this on purpose. Don't look down on people like this. Cooking is a piece of cake; who can't fry a steak, hmph!
"Yes, yes!" She, against her conscience, swept expensive steaks, butter, seasoning sauces, broccoli, and more into the basket, planning to follow the instructions from internet step by step later.
Ten minutes later, Basil parked the car in the visitor's parking space in the villa and led Cierra through the main entrance into the house.
"Why didn't you park in the basement?"
Cierra had seen the driveway leading to the underground parking lot from the car. She didn't believe that such a heavily guarded, upscale community filled with bigwigs would have such lax management of the parking area.
"Although the boss of the paparazzi has invested in a building in this community, do you think he can enter my private basement to take pictures?" His purpose for bringing a woman home was to let the tailing paparazzi capture photos with sensational angles. If he entered the house from the private garage, the effect would be greatly reduced.
"Oh!" Cierra confirmed once again that the older man's nature was certainly unlikable, and his way of speaking was quite unpleasant.
Entering the house, Basil left behind only the words "Make yourself at home" before disappearing, leaving Cierra to start exploring the director's private mansion alone.
The ground floor featured a spacious living room combined with a dining area. The living room was styled in cool grays, centered around a set of black and gray marble-patterned sofas that, apart from looking exorbitantly priced, also caught the eye dramatically, clearly fitting the man's cold and tough personality.
The beautiful kitchen had the complete set of designer hanging cabinets and a large central island that homemakers adored. Unfortunately, opening the super-sized refrigerator revealed only beer and milk. All the pots, pans, and utensils for cooking were virtually nowhere to be seen, indicating that the older man definitely didn't cook often.
Cierra placed the ingredients they had just bought from the supermarket. Taking out her phone, she found the instructions from internet on how to fry a steak, confident that she could handle it. Then she opened the music box, playing music while she cheerfully prepared the various ingredients.
Soon after, Basil followed the choking smell of burnt food, rushing to cover the pan with a lid from the rack beside him just as flames were about to lick at the strands of hair beside the woman's cheek, successfully saving his kitchen.
Earlier at the supermarket, he had already taken note of the woman's embarrassment when she promised she could cook. He had assumed she was merely a bit inexperienced in the kitchen, but he never expected such destructive force. The once spotless kitchen, free of any smoky atmosphere, now resembled a scene from a nuclear war.
He leaned against the wall, coolly surveying the crime scene, feeling that he had overestimated the woman!
"Can you cook? Hm?" He asked again, but this time his tone was laced with mockery.
Cierra was both embarrassed and flustered, biting her lower lip and looking at the sneer at the corner of Basil's mouth with watery, bright eyes, "It's just that I'm not used to using your kitchen."
Basil glanced at Cierra with clear, cool eyes and tossed her a cloth, "Clean up the countertop first!"
Well, allowing her to use his kitchen, he himself was also partly responsible.
He rolled up his sleeves neatly, took out the only surviving piece of steak from the box, put it into a sleek silver oven beside him, pressed a few buttons, and began to prepare the broccoli.
Washing vegetables, cutting them into pieces, boiling them in water, then lifting them out, sprinkling a light layer of salt, the oven timer happened to go off.
Opening the oven, he flipped the steak and continued baking it. When the time was up, he transferred the steak to a frying pan, sealing in the juices and tenderness with high heat. Then he served it, adding the broccoli and ready-to-eat baked sweet potatoes as accompaniments.
Ding dong, it looked no less impressive than a restaurant steak meal.
"Wow!" Cierra's eyes sparkled with excitement.
Basil had thought the woman would praise him a bit, but instead, she held the plate in an ingratiating manner and said to him:
"Mr. Logan may I start eating now?"
