He Gave Me $800 and Expected Me to Stay?! Yeah, No… Watch Me Turn the Tables Chapter 08

He Gave Me $800 and Expected Me to Stay?! Yeah, No… Watch Me Turn the Tables Chapter 08

“The golden boy wants to work for me? Can you even peel garlic?” 

I rolled my eyes and tossed a whole head of garlic at Vincent Sterling. 

He actually caught it. 

The city’s golden boy. The man at the helm of the 

hundred–billion–dollar Sterling Group. 

Right now he was squatting on a greasy curb. 

Clumsily picking at garlic skins. 

Cameras around us kept flashing. 

The internet lost its mind. 

Livestream viewers blew past a hundred thousand. 

“Y’all seeing this?? The CEO is peeling garlic live!” 

“He peels slower than my grandma.” 

“Is this the ultimate grovel or what?” 

I ignored the live comments and kept making wraps. 

Once he’d finished the garlic, Vincent Sterling volunteered to knead dough. 

He rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, showing off solid forearms. 

Then stuck his hands in the mixing bowl. 

“Too wet, add flour. Too dry, add water.” 

I directed him without looking up. 

Ten minutes later. 

Vincent Sterling’s whole face was white with flour. 

The dough in the bowl had turned into a sticky monster. 

“Chloe Paige… this dough kind of has a mind of its own.” 

He looked at me all innocent. I almost flung the spatula in his fac 

“Move! Don’t waste my food!” 

I shoved him aside and saved the dough myself. 

Getting snapped at didn’t: make him mad. He grinned like an idio instead. 

He pulled out a napkin and carefully wiped the sweat off my forehead. 

“Chloe, you look really good when you’re focused.” 

I broke out in goosebumps. 

“Vincent Sterling, did something possess you?” 

The next two weeks. 

Vincent Sterling showed up at my breakfast wrap stall every day, rain or shine, right on time. 

He learned to peel garlic, chop scallions, and pack orders. 

He could even handle the customers who were a pain. 

With him there, business was more than ten times better than before. 

End of the month. 

I sat on the bed in my rental, counting what I’d made. 

Plus that huge sum Vincent Sterling had returned to me. 

Mom’s surgery was fully covered, and the kids at the orphanage could get new clothes too. 

I let out a long breath. 

The weight on my chest finally lifted. 

Someone knocked. 

Vincent Sterling stood in the doorway with a bag of fresh vegetables. 

He walked into the kitchen like he belonged there and started washing and chopping. 

“Boss.” 

He kept cutting potato strips as he glanced back at me. 

“Does today’s performance get me made official?” 

I leaned on the doorframe, watching his busy back. 

“Official? Your dough game is still nowhere near it.” 

I handed him a napkin and wiped the water off his face. 

Vincent Sterling caught my hand and held it, dead serious. 

“Chloe, I’m not kidding.” 

“I want to go official. I want to be your real boyfriend.”