Chapter 359

“Last time I plopped you on the bed, did I… did I hurt your back?”

“No, absolutely not!” Freya’s eyes blew wide open. Internally, she was screaming: Dude, are you for real? You really think I need you playing doctor on my back?

Preston couldn’t help but frown at Freya’s resistant gaze. He seemed somewhat puzzled by the emotion she was trying to convey. To Preston, offering help was just that—offering help; gender didn’t play into it. But clearly, for Freya, there was a distinction. Offering help might be just that, but men were men and women were women.

“Boss, Dr. Anderson called earlier, asking if we needed to stock up on some greens, since it looks like we’re heavy on the meats tonight.”

“No need, let’s stick to the menu Ms. Dawson provided.”

“Got it.”

Freya remembered Neil saying that Preston, like her, wasn’t a big fan of really rich, heavy meals. Thinking back to the minimalist setup Preston had in his hotel room, and then to the simple meals he’d have at home, Freya couldn’t help but throw out her own wild guess: “Mr. Tyler, are you into self-denial?”

Preston looked up at her, and Freya, trying to backtrack from what she’d insinuated, added, “I mean, all these tycoons making waves internationally, aren’t you all supposed to indulge in exotic delicacies? But Mr. Tyler, you seem to live quite modestly here.”

‘Modestly’ was putting it lightly. Anyone else would call this place bare-bones. For someone wealthy, living in a villa this spartan, with hardly any decorations, just fast food and instant noodles in the fridge, and a bedroom that boasted little more than a bed, was unthinkable. The villa wasn’t large by city-center standards, but it felt spacious due to the lack of furniture. Freya was sure this villa was a hard sell, snapped up by Preston at a bargain price. She even thought that Preston’s choice was driven more by its seclusion and affordability than any other factor. Considering Preston had spent a fortune on land, splurging on a luxurious villa would have been easy, had he found one to his liking. But apparently, this neglected, old-style villa caught his preference.

“I’m not much for material possessions; sorry if it feels a bit austere for Ms. Dawson.”

Preston clearly misunderstood Freya’s point. He stood up, no longer inclined to chat. Freya wanted to clarify, but Preston simply headed upstairs.

“Talk about touchy…” Freya was just airing her curiosity. Preston, though, took it real personal, called her a spoiled rich girl before he stomped off.

Upstairs, Hans approached Preston, saying, “Your room is all set. Is Ms. Dawson staying over tonight?” “No.” Preston’s response was ice-cold as he retreated to his room.