Chapter ninety-five

Freya's POV

"This fucking horrible!! What the hell is wrong with you, are you trying to kill me?" Ethan yelled, dropping his spoon into his plate filled with mashed potatoes and gravy.

Aww, too bad. I never said I was a chef.

I snickered on the inside but screwed my face in sadness.

I ducked my head in apology, but he wasn't having it. He pulled away from the chair and stormed out, knocking the plate off in the process, so I had to clean it up.

I know he did it on purpose just to antagonize me, but gritting my teeth, I bent down and began to scrape the food off the hardwood floor.

At least, I was properly dressed up for it in my ratty scrubs.

Ethan was trying to get me to crack which is why he kept on doing everything in his power to make me give up my pretense..

Hell, no.

In the past two weeks, I've become everything ranging from errand girl to his chef.

Ever since that first night, he's avoided me like the bloody plague, not allowing me to touch him or come within two feet of him un