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He wasn’t annoyed. He didn’t sigh in frustration.
He just did it. Patiently. Carefully.
Only when he was certain there wasn’t a single trace of coriander left did he slide the bowl back to her.
“Here,” he murmured.
She bit her lip, hesitated for a moment—then picked up her spoon and started eating.
Seeing Ivy eat, Christian finally sighed in relief and picked up his utensils again, resuming his meal. His gaze kept drifting to her, checking on her between bites. Whenever her plate had less food, he silently served her more. If he spotted coriander in her dish—he meticulously removed it for her without a word.
As they neared the end of dinner, a maid appeared to pour water into their glasses. She smiled politely at Ivy before speaking.
“You’re very special, Miss,” the older woman said, her voice warm. “I’ve never seen Mr. Evans give such deep attention or care to any woman before.”
Ivy didn’t respond. She simply lowered her gaze, pretending not to hear. The maid, sensing her silence, quickly excused herself.
Once she finished eating, Ivy stood up and headed toward the couch to grab her purse. Just then, a doctor appeared at the door. Her eyes flickered between him and Christian, who was already walking toward her.
“Take a seat,” he said.
Her brows furrowed. "What’s going on? What do you think you’re doing?" A hint of anger edged her voice.
“He’s just here to check on you,” Christian replied calmly as he reached her. “ You have low blood pressure," he explained, stepping closer. "Let him examine you to make sure you're alright."
"I don’t need a check-up!" she snapped, spinning on her heel to storm past him.
But Christian was faster. He reached out, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back against him. Her body collided with his chest, and before she could protest, he dipped his head, his warm breath brushing against her ear.
"Ivy," he murmured, his voice low, coaxing. "Please, be good. If you sit through the check-up nicely, I’ll take you home."
Ivy pulled back sharply, turning to glare at him. Then, through gritted teeth, she spat, "I’m going home right after this."
Without waiting for his response, she marched toward the couch and sat down, letting the doctor examine her.
The doctor took her blood pressure and asked her a few health-related questions. Meanwhile, Christian stepped away, heading upstairs to fetch his jacket for her since the evening had turned colder. But when he returned a few minutes later, she was gone.
His eyes scanned the house, his jaw tightening. “Where is Ivy?” he asked the maid, his voice sharp.
The maid hesitated before giving a guilty smile. “She left already, sir. Just a few minutes ago.”
Christian’s fingers curled tightly around the jacket, his expression darkening for a fleeting moment. Then, with measured control, he neatly placed the jacket on the couch.
Turning to the doctor, he asked, “How is she?”
“She’s fine,” the doctor assured him. “Just a little weakness, but nothing concerning.”
Christian gave a stiff nod. Once the doctor left, he pulled out his phone and dialed Sawyer, one of his close friends, as he made his way to his bedroom.
The call connected.
"How can you pacify a girl who’s angry at you?" Christian asked without preamble.
There was a beat of silence before Sawyer’s amused voice responded, "Who are you pacifying?"
“None of your business,” Christian replied flatly. “Just tell me how to do it.”
Sawyer chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "The first thing you should do is treat her right and win her over properly. Date her, pacify her, and chase her like a normal man instead of being… well, you. Angry, broody faces don’t work on women these days. Don’t scare her with your attitude."