?<strong>Chapter 982:</strong>


    After her recent bout with a mild fever, Gemma had felt lethargic for days.


    Pierre tried new recipes every day to ensure she received the essential nutrients.


    Initially, too weak to eat on her own, Gemma depended on Pierre’s assistance. Even as her strength returned, she enjoyed thefort of him feeding her.


    With time, Pierre’s visits to Gemma’s room became more frequent, and his caregiving skills improved. His attentiveness rivaled that of She. However, he rarely started conversations. Gemma often prompted him, asking, “Why don’t you ask me who cooks better, you or She?”


    Pierre generally had little interest in such light topics, but he yed along for Gemma’s sake. “Who do you think cooks better?”


    Gemma’s eyes sparkled. “She.”


    Without a reaction, Pierre simply offered her another bite of porridge.


    “Just kidding. You both cook well. It’s hard to pick,” Gemma teased.


    Pierre responded tly, “Miss Hampton, open your mouth.” He focused solely on feeding her as if ticking off a checklist.


    Losing her yful spirit, Gemma murmured, “You’re no fun.”


    Pierre gave a nonchnt “Hmm,” then continued feeding her.


    Gemma observed his well-formed lips. “You seldomugh. How high is yourughter threshold?”


    “Not very,” Pierre replied.


    “Then why don’t you smile?”


    Pierre nced up. “Why should I?”


    His reply, though not harsh, disappointed Gemma. “Is talking to me that tedious?”


    Pierre pursed his lips. “Somewhat.”


    Gemma’s desire to eat waned.


    Persistently, Pierre scraped the bowl with the spoon, adding a gentle caution, “I report your meal intake to Mr. Hampton. If he learns you ate only two spoonfuls tonight…”


    Pierre scooped up another spoonful.


    Gemma disliked his tone but, wary of Corey’s displeasure, ate quietly. “If you’d just smile, I’d finish my meal,” she proposed.


    “I can’t fake a smile,” Pierre answered.


    “Not even a pretend one?”


    “I value sincerity over pretense.”


    As dusk settled, Pierre showered and returned to Gemma’s bedroom, taking a seat on the sofa.


    With She away, Pierre had been keeping Gemmapany in this manner.


    Lying on her side, Gemma watched the muscles y under Pierre’s white T-shirt. His time as a boxer had left his arms notably bulkier than average. Curiously, she inquired, “You’re skilled in the kitchen, so what drew you to boxing?” Boxing was dangerous, earning money at the risk of one’s life.


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