The Strange Groom's Cursed Bride-Chapter 44: Dinner duties

The clang of pots echoed like a war drum.

Alice flinched as a tray of chopped vegetables nearly slid off the marble counter. She grabbed it just in time, steadying the bowl with trembling hands. Her apron was too tight. Her palms were slick with nervous sweat. The kitchen smelled like garlic, spices, and humiliation.

A month ago, if this opportunity was presented to her to work as a chef or even a cleaner in the Wildfire mansion, she’d have seen that as a dream come true.

But now?

She had won a case. Okay, maybe not won, since there was a big price to pay, something she still couldn’t get out of her head. But then, she had done it. And what did she get in return? Being deployed to the kitchen for cooking duty because there would be a ’family dinner’ tonight. Wasn’t it the same dinner they had been having the entire time?

Except now, she would have to join them. And maybe... Hades too.

She had asked one of the housekeepers earlier — awkwardly, with feigned curiosity — if Hades would be attending.

They didn’t know. He was unpredictable, they said. Busy. Private. Often silent.

"You’re holding the knife wrong," one of the women said without looking at her.

She tried to hold it the correct way. To be fair, cooking was not her thing. Pauline usually cooked for them.

She was useless here. Did Aurora know how to cook? Pricillia hadn’t mentioned anything about that.

However, she could read the minds of the other kitchen assistants. They hadn’t said anything remotely unkind, in fact, most of them looked amused. Poor little rich girl gets a taste of normal life. They assumed she’d been pampered all her life, and in Aurora’s case, they weren’t wrong.

Alice gritted her teeth and focused on peeling the skin off a tomato like it had personally offended her. There were no cameras. No watching Matriarch. Just quiet judgment from women who thought she was Aurora — spoiled, incompetent, and finally learning her lesson.

Could Aurora have been able to live like this?

She had to survive.

Because that’s what survivors do.

So she endured it. This was all for her future. However, whenever she tried to convince herself about that, she remembered how Hades had given away 10 million easily. The same thing she was here, killing herself for.

The same thing that still bugged her even more than someone else knowing her real identity. Someone like him from the West. Was it because he was a prosecutor?

She shook her head. She didn’t need to dwell on it. He had already promised to keep her secret. Now, she needed to know how to handle this other problem.

She had wanted to call him but was too scared to even dial Gavin’s number.

She wasn’t sure she would be able to ask the correct questions on the phone. And she didn’t want to meet him soon either.

What would she say?

’Why did you agree to pay that? What do you want in return? What does that make me to you?’

But even thinking it made her throat tight.

And then she heard it.

A voice — low, smooth, and somehow louder than the knives on the cutting board.

"Why is she here?"

It was Dawin.

The other women in the kitchen looked toward the entrance, and so did she.

Alice froze, knife mid-cut.

Silence fell like a guillotine and it seemed like even the pressure cookers whistled more quietly.

He was dressed surprisingly casual in a shirt and jean, and his hair wasn’t styled like he was going to chair a board meeting. She had never seen him look like this before. He seemed even younger.

He stood there like he owned the building. He didn’t look at anyone else. His dark eyes were locked on her like she’d been dropped in the wrong room.

"T-The... Matri—" the woman in charge of the dishes tonight started to speak nervously.

"I didn’t ask you," he replied without missing a beat.

Alice looked at him, wondering what he meant by this. Why was he here?

First, he had offered to drive her this morning and then didn’t care how she would return and suddenly, he was in her space again?

Dawin walked straight in. There was a sharp click of his shoes against the tiles, and then he was beside her, plucking the knife from her hand.

"Don’t let them assign you things beneath you," he murmured.

That stunned her.

And like an idiot, she was suddenly left short of words, "It wasn’t— I wasn’t trying to—" she stammered.

"I know," he said calmly. "But they don’t."

He turned, handed the knife to a stunned assistant, and faced the group.

"She’s done here."

"But—" the leader of the kitchen staff started.

He gave her one look. One.

No one spoke again.

Yes, Hades was terrifying, but Dawin wasn’t far off. And there was just something about him that made Alice wary. For some weird reason, she preferred remaining in the kitchen than going out with him..

But then, who was she kidding? She wanted to be done with this.

Alice followed him out like a shadow, every step dazed. They walked in silence down the hall until they reached one of the quiet parlors. He didn’t sit. Neither did she.

She looked up at him finally. "Why did you do that?"

He tilted his head. "You looked like you wanted out."

"I didn’t ask you to rescue me."

"No. But you needed it."

There was a pause. Long. Heavy.

"Why are you suddenly helping me?" She looked at him suspiciously. "You don’t look like the type to do pointless things."

He looked at her.

The kind of look that felt like he knew she was hiding something and it suddenly made her remember how her accent had slipped in this morning when she was in his car.

Suddenly, Dawin moved closer to her.

Too close.

Alice’s instincts reacted before her brain did — she stepped back immediately, her heart already in her throat. But she didn’t get far. His hand was on her shoulder — firm, smooth, familiar in a way she hadn’t agreed to. And before she could jerk away, he spun her around with practiced ease.

Her back hit his chest.

The movement sent a jolt down her spine.

She flinched hard.

"What—?" she gasped, but then she felt it — the tug at her neck.

Dawin’s fingers found the clasp of her apron, and with one swift motion, he unhooked it. The cloth slid down, catching at the waist tie and draping around her hips like a fallen curtain. Her skin prickled.

She froze.

The room spun just for a second — not from touch, but from alarm.

She whirled around sharply, eyes blazing, ready to demand what the hell he was doing.

But she didn’t get the chance.

A voice — colder than ice and twice as sharp — sliced through the air like a blade.

"Interesting scene."

Her breath caught.

Her heart dropped.

Both she and Dawin turned toward the voice at once.

Hades.

He stood a few feet away, hands casually tucked into the pockets of his coat. His posture was deceptively calm — arms folded, leaning slightly against the doorway. But his eyes...

His eyes were the only betrayal.

There was no fire in them. Only something far more dangerous — control.

"You seem adorably close," he said, voice silk-wrapped steel. "Am I interrupting something?"

Alice’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Her hands itched to grab the apron still tangled at her waist. She took a breath — sharp, shallow.

Dawin didn’t move.

He turned fully to face Hades, still relaxed, his hands at his sides. "I didn’t realize that was a crime now."

Hades stepped forward.

Not in haste. But every inch he claimed of that room felt like territory stolen in war.

"You touching her like that," Hades said, eyes never leaving Dawin, "feels more than casual."

Alice looked between them — from Dawin’s unreadable smirk to Hades’s quiet fury. Something primal hummed beneath the surface, vibrating through the air like a live wire.

"I was removing her apron," Dawin said, tone annoyingly bland.

Hades arched a brow. "That your job now?"

Dawin shrugged.

"I didn’t ask to be helped," she said tightly, looking at Dawin.

His mouth curved in a half-smile, but he said nothing.

"And I didn’t ask to be rescued either," she added, facing Hades now, even if her legs were trembling.

But Hades didn’t back off. He stepped closer to her this time — not harsh, not hurried. Just enough to close the space between them, and then he did something strange. He tilted her chin upward gently with two fingers.

He was touching her.

Her eyes widened and she moved to step back but his fingers held her chin firmly.

Her gaze met his. Squarely.

It was too much.

His nearness, the heat radiating off his frame — it burned through the air between them. Alice’s breath caught again. Her heart betrayed her with its thundering pulse.

What the hell?