"Why don't you get it?" Nathaniel frowned. "I'm just giving you some well-intentioned advice."
Ethan Shaw hadn't yet taken off his black apron. Naomi Kenway had made him wear it, afraid he might burn himself again.
Seeing Ethan Shaw still wearing a housekeeping apron, Nathaniel was filled with contempt. 'He used to think that even though Ethan was arrogant, he at least had some presence. But now? He was nothing more than a henpecked weakling.'
"A grown man, wasting his time in the kitchen... People would laugh their heads off if they heard about this," Nathaniel said.
"I think you're the one who should be laughed at, you underdeveloped moron."
Naomi Kenway chuckled softly as she descended the stairs.
She hadn't wanted to have a falling out with Nathaniel, but who knew he'd be so ignorant? Every word he spoke reeked of masculine pride and entitlement. In his eyes, cooking was a disgraceful task—a woman's duty.
