You had somehow convinced the chef to let you bake, though you have never, with Eleanor—your best friend—because why not?

Needless to say, you didn't follow her directions and set the oven to a higher temperature. As soon as you took out the "cake" from the oven, black smokes were coming out along with it.

You were looking at your cake in disappointment while Eleanor was trying to fan the smoke away so that it doesn't trigger the fire alarm or the chef.

"What did I do wrong?" you asked, staring at the cake with crossed arms. "I swear I followed-" your sentence was interrupted by a familiar British voice from behind.

"What are you both doing?" the voice, elegant yet cold, questioned.

Startled, you and Eleanor whirled around to see Alexander—your arranged husband—standing there at the kitchen entrance with his expression bemused as he crossed his arms.

He noticed the burnt cake behind you and arch an eyebrow at it.