Chapter 292 How Could Pippa Regard Isabella as Her Master?

Late at night, Patrick sat on the sofa, eyes half-closed, waiting.

“Mr. Powell, I made you a late-night snack.” A maid walked over gracefully, carrying a plate.

On the plate was pasta.

The maid twirled some pasta around a fork, blew on it to cool it down, then brought it to his lips.

Patrick op...

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