Chapter 100 *
Scarlett’s POV
"It's Chinese," she said. Still looking at me like I was from another planet. "You cook your own food in the broth. It's huge right now."
Chinese. Right. That explained the smell.
"There are hot pot restaurants opening everywhere in Manhattan," she continued. "My friends and I go all the time."
She tilted her head. Studying me.
"It's like a whole social experience. You've really never tried it?"
My pride kicked in. Hard.
"I know what it is," I said.
The lie came out smooth. Confident.
She raised one eyebrow. Clearly not buying it.
"Seriously? It's been trending for like two years now."
Trending. Great.
"Everyone my age knows about it," she continued. "Even people in their thirties usually..."
She stopped. Her eyes widened slightly.
Oh no. I knew that look.
"Oh. Right." Her voice got softer. Almost apologetic. "You probably don't keep up with food trends."
My chest tightened.
"You're more of a traditional steak and whiskey guy, right?" She was still talking. "Old-school."
The word hit me like a punch to the gut.
I'm thirty-three years old. Not seventy.
"It's fine," she said quickly. "Different generations have different comfort zones with new stuff."
Different generations.
My breath caught.
"My grandpa doesn't understand TikTok either," she continued. Completely oblivious to the damage she was doing. "It's totally normal for older people."
Older people.
There it was.
She thought I was old. Out of touch. Some dinosaur who couldn't keep up with the times.
"Don't worry about it," she said. Her tone was actually kind. Reassuring. "Stick to what you know."
Something inside me snapped.
I took a deep breath. Forced my face into a neutral expression.
Then I walked straight to her table. Pulled out a chair. Sat down.
"Show me how it works."
She blinked. "What?"
"This hot pot thing." My voice came out clipped. Controlled. "Show me."
She just stared at me. Mouth slightly open.
"Really?" Her whole face lit up. "You want to try it?"
No. I wanted to prove a point.
I wanted to show her I wasn't some out-of-touch old man who couldn't handle new things.
"Really," I said.
She practically bounced over to the table. Sat down across from me.
"Okay so you take these raw ingredients." She gestured at the plates around the pot. "And you cook them in the broth for different times."
I looked at the ingredients. Thin sliced meat. Vegetables. Noodles. Mushrooms.
How hard could this be?
"The spicy side is mala," she continued. "It'll make your mouth numb. The other side is just regular broth."
She handed me chopsticks.
I took them. Held them the way I'd seen in movies.
She was watching me with this excited expression. Like a kid showing off a new toy.
Meanwhile, my internal monologue was screaming.
How complicated can boiling food be? I've negotiated with cartel bosses. I can handle a fucking pot.
"Start with the beef," she said. "It only takes like thirty seconds."
I picked up a piece of meat with the chopsticks. Dropped it into the red oily side.
She winced. "Maybe try the regular side first. The spicy one is pretty intense if you're not used to it."
Too late.
I watched the meat cook. Pulled it out after what seemed like thirty seconds.
Put it in my mouth.
The heat hit me immediately.
Not just spicy. This was something else. A tingling sensation that spread across my tongue. My lips. The inside of my cheeks.
My eyes started watering.
I forced myself to keep chewing. To swallow.
Refused to react.
"How is it?" Scarlett was watching me closely.
"Good," I managed. My voice came out slightly strangled.
She grinned. "You're handling it better than I did my first time. I cried."
My mouth was on fire. Completely numb. I couldn't feel my tongue anymore.
But I'd be damned if I admitted that.
"It's not bad," I said.
Then I picked up another piece. Dropped it in the spicy side again.
Scarlett jumped up from her seat.
"Wait wait wait!" She ran into the kitchen.
I heard her opening cabinets. Things clattering around.
A few seconds later she came running back. She was holding something.
"Here!" She shoved it at me. "You'll need this."
I looked down.
An apron.
A fucking SpongeBob SquarePants apron.
Bright yellow. That square sponge grinning like an idiot across the front. Bubbles. A starfish. Tentacles everywhere.
I stared at it.
What. The. Fuck.
"The broth splashes," Scarlett said. She was already tying on her own apron. "Trust me, you don't want it on that suit."
I looked up.
She was wearing Hello Kitty.
Pink. With bows and flowers all over it.
She didn't see anything wrong with this.
Not a single thing.
"Come on." She gestured at the apron in my hands. "Put it on."
I am Damon Wolfe.
I run the most powerful crime organization in New York.
I've ordered hits on men without blinking.
Politicians fear me. Cartel bosses respect me.
And she wants me to wear SpongeBob SquarePants.
"What's wrong?" She tilted her head. "Don't you like SpongeBob?"
Her voice was genuinely concerned. Like she was asking why I didn't like some cartoon character.
"I have a Pikachu one too if you prefer that?"
Jesus Christ.
"No." The word came out faster than I intended. "This is fine."
I could not let her bring out something with a yellow rat on it.
"You sure?" She was already turning around. "Let me check—"
"I'm sure."
She stopped. Looked back at me. Smiled.
Then went back to the hot pot like nothing happened.
I stood there holding SpongeBob.
Scarlett was already dropping vegetables into the pot. Completely focused.
Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail. A few strands had fallen loose around her face.
She looked young. Carefree. Like she belonged in a dorm room somewhere.
Not in my world. Not anywhere near it.
I took a deep breath.
Okay. Think about this logically.
This is what happens when you marry someone too young.
She probably thinks cartoon aprons are normal.
This is just part of the package.
At least no one will ever see this.
It's just her apartment. No witnesses.
I can survive one night of SpongeBob.
I shook out the apron.
Put it over my head.
Reached behind to tie it.
My hands were shaking slightly. Because every fiber of my being was rejecting this.
I got it tied. Stood there.
My dignity was screaming.
Scarlett looked up. Her eyes went bright.
"It suits you!"
"Don't."
"No really!" She was trying not to smile. "Yellow is your color."
"Scarlett."
"Okay okay, sorry." She bit her lip. Still smiling.
I walked to the table. Sat down.
Looked down at my chest.
SpongeBob was still grinning up at me.
That stupid square face. Those buck teeth.
I wanted to rip this thing off and burn it.
But Scarlett was watching me. Waiting for me to try the food.
"Start with the mushrooms," she said. "They're less spicy."
I picked up my chopsticks again and dropped a mushroom into the broth.
Scarlett was explaining something about cooking times. Her voice was animated. Excited.
She looked very happy.
Fine.
I could do this.
For her.
Even in a fucking SpongeBob apron.