CHAPTER 216: CHAPTER 216: SERVING MY WIFE

After Marcus Vance gulped down three glasses of wine, the meal officially began.

One must admit that hotpot tastes best when eaten in a gathering, with Seraphina Sinclair and Rosalie Quinn happily munching away, oil dripping from their mouths, laughing heartily at each other’s appearance.

Indeed, there are two types of women who don’t care about their image: those who have been in a long-term relationship and those who have no intention of entering one.

Unlike Irene Rowe, who has just started dating and is very conscious of her appearance, eating daintily, afraid that her newly acquired boyfriend might be scared off by her unreserved demeanor.

For a romance newbie like Austin White, simply being by Irene Rowe’s side and watching her is happiness enough; whether she’s smiling, angry, crying, or laughing, he loves every expression of hers.

Desmond Fairchild sat beside Seraphina Sinclair, elegantly preparing meat for her while barely eating himself.

Similarly, Jude Sinclair was on Desmond Fairchild’s other side, but it was Camille White who took care of him.

However, Jude Sinclair never minded these things. Rarely permitted to eat spicy hotpot, his focus was all on his food rather than his parents showcasing their love.

Fortunately, Camille White was a doctor and understood Jude Sinclair’s health well, ensuring the meat prepared for him was briefly boiled to cater to his needs.

But even briefly dipped meat in spicy hotpot retains its delicious flavor, having absorbed the rich taste.

While everyone else was enjoying the meal, only Marcus Vance kept his head down and continued drinking.

Of course, it’s not his intention to drink; Desmond Fairchild kept giving him drinks. As the host, Desmond occasionally raised his glass to toast Marcus Vance.

Marcus Vance dared not refuse, each time saying, "I’ll drink mine whole; you’re free to choose."

Desmond Fairchild would always sip just a little, whereas Marcus Vance drank an entire glass.

The few bottles of wine that Quentin Jennings brought were naturally insufficient, so more was retrieved from the cellar.

Seraphina Sinclair found it all quite brutal, wanting to plead for Marcus Vance but was stopped by him. He understood that if Seraphina spoke on his behalf, he’d have to drink an extra glass.

A jealous man is terrifying; he never dares speak to Seraphina Sinclair alone again.

Quentin Jennings completely understood Marcus Vance, feeling sympathy but also a touch of glee.

After all, he was the one previously suffering under Desmond Fairchild’s hand, and now it’s Marcus Vance’s turn. He couldn’t be happier.

"Come now, Marcus Vance, I toast you too. We’ve been brothers for years; surely you won’t deny me this courtesy?" Quentin Jennings was laughing secretly when Desmond Fairchild swept a glance over, instantly silencing him. In a bid to curry favor with Desmond, he had Marcus Vance endure more.

At first, Marcus Vance managed to maintain his composure with a smile, but after who-knows-how-many drinks, even the most gentlemanly can’t hold their poise, gritting his teeth he declared, "Good brother, I’ll drink this whole!"

His expression was completely out of control as he downed yet another full glass of red wine.

Rosalie Quinn clicked her tongue and shook her head, "That’s too miserable; looks like you should never offend President Fairchild, or who could endure such a fate?"

Seraphina Sinclair was speechless and choked up. Her good intentions to resolve the misunderstanding between Marcus Vance and Desmond Fairchild brought Marcus Vance here. Had she known it would turn out this way, she would never have invited him.

She wanted to plead, but feared Desmond might overthink, so she quietly continued eating.

Seeing Marcus Vance already in a stupor from drinking, the chill around Desmond Fairchild eased slightly.

He placed a slice of honeycomb tripe into Seraphina Sinclair’s bowl, his perpetually stern face showing a hint of gentleness: "Eat more."

Seraphina Sinclair dared not speak much at this point, obediently nodded, and opened her mouth to eat the tripe.

The crisp tripe with dry seasoning was so delicious that she momentarily forgot about Marcus Vance’s ongoing ordeal, happily grabbing Desmond’s hand: "Two more slices."

Serving his wife was a pleasure for Desmond Fairchild; seeing her want more, he prepared several more slices for her.

No problem is insurmountable by hotpot; if it is, just add more tripe.

Before the gathering ended, Marcus Vance was already passed out.

Though everyone sympathized with him, the troublemaker was Desmond Fairchild. Not even Seraphina Sinclair dared intervene, and naturally, outsiders wouldn’t either.

Everyone actually drank a bit tonight, enough to leave them slightly tipsy. Fortunately, the house had many guest rooms, so Seraphina Sinclair decided to have everyone stay overnight.

Having drunk, they couldn’t drive at this late hour.

Due to health reasons, Seraphina Sinclair had been abstaining from alcohol, making her the most alert of them all.

Looking at the remnants on the dining table, Seraphina felt quite overwhelmed. So many dishes, pots, and pans—who knows how long it will take to clean up.

She initially considered hiring a cleaner, but it was already past midnight, too late to find anyone. If she left it overnight, the restaurant would reek of hotpot tomorrow.

She had no choice but to clean up herself.

Just as she began picking up dishes, Desmond Fairchild’s deep voice sounded behind her, "Leave it to me."

"You’ve also drunk quite a lot; go rest. I’ll handle this," Seraphina instinctively refused. Desmond worked hard during the day and still cooked for her and Jude Sinclair; she could handle these tasks.

"Let go." Desmond’s large hand gently pried Seraphina’s delicate hands from the dishes. "These hands aren’t meant for housework."

Seraphina’s heart raced at his domineering action; did this man know what he was doing?

Despite this, she instinctively let go, her flushed cheek resting against Desmond’s chest as she whispered, "Could you let go of me? It’s a bit warm."

At that moment, Desmond was embracing her from behind, his large hand covering hers, her waist pushed against the table, perfectly encircled in his arms.

She wasn’t sure why she suddenly felt so hot; though the house heating wasn’t set high, her whole body seemed on fire, engulfed in Desmond’s warmth.

"I’ll get someone to clean." Desmond didn’t release Seraphina but rather wrapped his arms around her.

Feeling her feet lift off the ground, Seraphina’s face reddened even more, filled with helplessness. "Who will you call at this hour? Cleaners have gone off duty."

"Servants," Desmond’s gaze intensified.

"It’s late; don’t trouble them. Let’s just..." Seraphina’s words halted as Desmond’s long fingers rested on her lips.

He said, "Enjoying Fairchild Family’s generous salary, these tasks are their duty."

Seraphina had no choice but to yield to him.

In truth, Desmond was right—the Fairchild Family’s pay was more than tenfold higher than that of ordinary households. Part of this generous package was for twenty-four-hour standby service for the masters.

Receiving pay without working was not an option here.

Unbeknownst to Seraphina, the maids were eager for work, thrilled to have an opportunity to see Desmond Fairchild; why would they complain?