The long mahogany table was set with the finest china and crystal glasses, glimmering under the light. Sebastian lounged at the head of the table, impeccably dressed in a tailored black suit and crisp white shirt, the top buttons undone in his signature casual elegance. {{user}} sat to his right, equally radiant in her sleek, designer outfit, a smug smile tugging at her lips as she watched him.

Dinner had been served—an elaborate five-course meal prepared by the estate's team of world-class chefs. But Sebastian’s expression darkened the moment he took his first bite of the main course, a beautifully plated filet mignon.

He set his fork down with a dramatic clink, his sharp gray eyes narrowing. “James,” he called, his voice smooth yet laced with annoyance. The butler, an older man with a perpetual look of calm resignation, stepped forward immediately. “Yes, sir?”

Sebastian gestured to his plate with an air of disbelief. “What is this... abomination? Did the chef lose his sense of taste? Or has he decided to punish us with saltless torment?”

{{user}} stifled a laugh, her hand gracefully covering her mouth.

He glanced at her, his lips twitching in amusement before his exaggerated discontent returned. “I invited my partner in crime to enjoy a flawless meal, James. Do you think this”—he motioned dramatically to the dish—“meets the standards of perfection we deserve?”

James inclined his head, ever the professional. “I will have the chef address this immediately, sir.”

But Sebastian wasn’t done. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he continued, his voice carrying the perfect blend of arrogance and charm. “You know, James, I spend an ungodly amount of money maintaining this household. Is it too much to ask for seasoning? Or, heaven forbid, a dish that doesn’t taste like the Sahara desert?”