"Savannah! You bitch! I have been working hard and well in the group, and it's you who made Mr. Sterling hate me since you came! It's you who asked Mr. Sterling to fire me! I wish you to die!"
Miller was indeed a hypocrite, and she changed her face so quickly. Why did she pass the buck instead of reflecting on her own mistakes?
Savannah didn't regret asking Dylan to fire her. At that moment, two security guards came by; one of them was the security manager, knowing that her relationship with Mr. Sterling was not straightforward. He hurriedly came over to Savannah, "Miss Schultz, are you okay? Did she hurt you?"
Savannah shook her head. "I'm fine. Please get this lady out of the company as soon as possible."
"Savannah, you bi --"
Before Miller finished the word "bitch," she was picked up by the security manager and dragged away. All those in the lobby watched Miller, who was a very popular chief secretary, being dragged out with surprise.
Savannah breathed a sigh of relief when Miller was taken away and disappeared from her eyes.
***
After leaving the group, Savannah went to the market for groceries.
The man told her that she must do everything herself, from pre-preparation to cooking the food.
What a nitpicker!
She might as well treat him to a meal outside if she had known all the trouble.
Nevertheless, Savannah still started to select the food ingredients carefully.
She used to go to the produce market with Norah when she lived in her uncle's house, but it was Norah who selected the vegetables and meat, and she was just like a little maid there to pick up the basket.
This was the first time she selected the food herself. She bought some vegetables, potatoes, ribs, and chicken thighs. She didn't leave until well after sunset.
When Savannah returned to Beverly Hills, she found the whole villa empty except herself. Judy was not in the house, either.
Did Judy take the day off? She did not mention it in advance.
Savannah didn't think much. It was getting late when she went into the kitchen, ready to cook.
Watching the food piled up on the counter, she felt troubled and anxious. Still, no matter how difficult it was, she would just roll up her sleeves and do it!
She opened Google on her phone, searched several recipes, and followed them to start cooking.
After a time, the door creaked open on the porch. When Dylan came in, he found the sound and smell of cooking coming from the kitchen.
Was this woman going to burn his house down?
He laughed, took off his coat, and headed for the kitchen. He saw the little woman struggling with the fryer and food amid the smoke.
Savannah was making fried chicken. Probably because she put the chicken thighs, which were not entirely defrosted into the oil directly, the whine of a chicken-roaster was heard, and hot oil splatter in all directions.
"Ah!" She covered her face, dropped the spatula, and then subconsciously jumped behind. Dylan came forward and quickly turned off the fire, pulling her to his back!
She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Dylan, and then turned aside to hide her blushes for her unseemly manner being seen by him.
"I asked you to cook, not set the house on fire," Dylan said as he smiled a dazzling, crooked smile.
She swallowed, unwilling to be laughed at by him, "In fact, I did a good job before, it was you who came and affected my performance!" She said, pointing to the dishes that had been prepared and not yet served on the counter.
Blamed him for it? Dylan's lip quirked up, thinking it was funny.
"Oh, did Judy take the day off today? I didn't see her when I came back." Savannah broke the silence in a natural, conversational tone.
"Well, I let Judy off, in case you asked her to cook for you." Dylan raised his eyebrows.
Savannah curled her lips. "Just a few dishes. I can do it myself."
"Well, I can't see how you can do it.". Dylan sneered.
Savannah turned away, unwilling to speak to him.
The chicken dish failed, but fortunately, there were other dishes. They carried them out to the dining room together.
"Come on." Savannah was a little nervous.
After all, it was the first time she cooked for him. He was so strict and critical that she didn't know if she could satisfy him.
Dylan jabbed his fork into the potato and put it into his mouth.
Was this what she called "good job"?
Was the fucking potato wrapped in sugar?
"How does it taste?" Savannah looked at him.
"... Too sweet."
Sweet? Oh, no! She didn't accidentally mix salt instead of sugar, did she?
Then he stabbed a piece of meat from the plate with his fork. This time, he just took a little meat. But again, his face twisted. It was…too salty.
Even the bacon was not as salty as the meat!
Savannah broke down in a cold sweat. Was it really that bad? "Better?"
"A little salty."
Salty? She was dumbfounded. Oh, when she fried the meat, she received the call from Olivia. After she hung up, she probably forgot that she had already sprinkled some salt on it, so she added salt again.
Her face clearly expressed the frustration of the baffled. Dylan's eyes fell on the salad.
It was just a salad, Dylan thought, it could not be wrong. Anyway, it should be much better than the two dishes.
He tried the salad carefully, but the next moment he began to cough.
"Are you okay?" Savannah tapped him on the back.
Dylan wiped his mouth with a piece of napkin, his face flushed. "Are you trying to poison me? This salad -- how much pepper did you add?"
He didn't want to discourage the little woman, so he forced himself to try the dishes one by one, but determined that he couldn't survive if he continued.
The dark cuisine!
Savannah patted her head. "My! I may have accidentally added too much white pepper! I wanted to spice it up, but I didn't expect the pepper to be so spicy!"
The dinner was a complete failure. Savannah stood up helplessly, ready to make a phone call. "I'll order you a pizza…or shall we go out now?"
"Don't bother," Dylan said as he went straight into the kitchen. Savannah was stunned and followed him, "What are you doing? Do you want to cook again? Can I help you?"
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