Burning Passion: Love Never Die

For someone who appeared to be in his twenties, he looked like a model student
at university. With a smile lingering on his face, it was difficult to see him as
anything else but a nice person.

Shooting Debbie an awkward Look, Rhonda turned to the man and replied
courteously, “Tristan, this lady is here for Carlos.”

In spite of Rhonda's efforts to introduce the lady, Tristan was too distracted by
Debbie’s bewitching smile to pay attention. But soon enough, he was back to
being professional.

“Hello, miss. Nice to meet you. Please, follow me,” he said, politely gesturing with
his hand towards the CEO's office. Offering a small smile, Debbie followed
Tristan while Rhonda stayed behind. The young Lady could tell that the older
woman was relieved to pass her over to Tristan.

Upon reaching the door, the male secretary knocked on the door lightly.

“Come in,” came Carlos’ deep, cold voice.

Instinctively, Debbie clutched the meal box close to her. Of all the times when she
could lose her nerve, it just had to be at a point when she was halfway through
the final step of her plan.

Would he be displeased to see her? There was a chance where Carlos would get
so angry that he might grab the divorce papers and sign them at once. Then
again, he could be in such a good mood that he might gladly agree to let her out
of the marriage.

Her mind, a little all over the place, was filled with so many questions as she
walked into Carlos’ office.

The office was at least 300 square meters, decorated from the furniture to its
walls in shades of black, white, and gray.

A state-of-the-art, high-tech desk was placed by the window. In front of it, were a
white sofa and a glass table. Against a wall was a wine cabinet and on the
opposite side was a bookshelf with a water dispenser next to it. In spite of its
enormous space, the place looked clean and simple with its minimalist style.

On the left side was an indoor golf court. Some famous paintings and calligraphy
were hung on the wall. Meanwhile, on the right side was the

CEO's private Lounge.

When Carlos raised his head from what he had been working on, he saw the girl
at the door. A faint light flickered in his eyes at the sight of her.

Putting down the pen, he stared at Debbie who was looking around curiously.
The young lady's attention was on everything else in the room but him.

When she felt his eyes on her, she paused from her subtle exploration of the
room and withdrew her gaze from its decoration. After hearing

Tristan close the door behind her, she took a few steps towards him.

During that short moment, she tried to calm herself down. Once she did, she
remarked, “Um, Carlos.” Immediately, she remembered Rhonda's and everyone
else's reactions earlier and corrected herself, “Oh, I'm sorry. I mean, Sir. I'm sorry
to interrupt you. It's just that... er, I made this at home. I'd like it if you could have
a taste.”

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Carlos raised an eyebrow in disbelief.
What was she up to? Was this her

way of apologizing? After their

previous encounters, he had the
impression that she was a very

stubborn, feisty girl. She did not

seem like the type to back down from

a fight. Certainly not from him. So

why was she apologizing to him all of

a sudden? Was it all just some

elaborate trick? The content is on
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And... well, could the girl even cook?

All the questions that lingered in his

mind as she stood before Carlos

made him remember something

from the past. The day they had
registered for marriage, Carlos

recalled, he had told Philip that the

girl did not have to do anything, and

that as his wife, she was to be

treated like a queen. The content is

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chapter therel

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There was no pressure for Debbie to
Learn household chores or anything

that required putting her hands to

work. If that had been the case these

past few years, then why did she feel

the need to learn how to cook? Was it

one of her hobbies? Because Philip

had never mentioned it in his reports.

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For a long moment, Carlos did not say anything in response. His silence made
the lady very nervous. “What the hell does this mean?’ she thought frantically.
“Is he angry? Does he not want me to show up here?’

The possibility of her last thought made her feel a bit embarrassed.