Marry My Billionaire Second Husband - Chapter 192

Chapter 192: Food Tasting
With Matteo’s dire warning ringing in her ears, Amelia kept a careful eye out for any rough waters on the horizon. However, the road to their wedding was so smooth sailing that it was making her suspicious.

Emmeline hadn’t done anything more than make snide comments here and there when they crossed paths, but truthfully, they were so mild in comparison to her usual standards that Amelia found herself worrying for Emmeline instead. Amelia half-expected her to tag along for the food tasting today if only to insult Amelia’s culinary tastes.

Instead, Emmeline hadn’t shown up even after their grandfather invited her!

Was she possessed? Or dying? Amelia wondered if a new soul had entered her when no one was watching. Could it be possible that Emmeline had finally given up on snatching Matteo?

“Miss Kentwood? May I know your opinions about this entrée?”

Amelia blinked, the voice startling her out of her thoughts. She stared down at the sample of hors d’oeuvres on her plate and quickly took a bigger bite.

It was a zucchini and pepper gratin with herbs and cheese, and it tasted fine. Nothing spectacular― or perhaps she had simply tasted too many samples to count.

Before her stood the wedding planner and the caterer, who stared at her expectantly, waiting for her comments. Amelia quickly cleared her throat.

“It’s good. It’s good. What do you think, Dad? Grandfather?”

Michael Kentwood had all but dragged himself out of the hospital to take part in the wedding planning. He had already missed the fitting for the wedding dress; he’d be damned if he missed any more milestones. As a show of goodwill, Horace Hawthorne had arranged for the food tasting to happen at a venue near the hospital.

Now that the marriage was all but set in stone, they had to at least be civil with each other. However, Amelia could still feel the slight tension between the two men, her mother’s ghost a visible presence between them. These were the two men who loved her the most in vastly different ways, and they hadn’t talked in decades.

“Well. It’s a bit peppery,” Michael Kentwood said with a small frown. “Are you sure those old rich people can handle this much flavor? There will be more elderly at your wedding than usual.”

After all, Horace’s friends would all be showing up for this once-in-a-lifetime occasion.

“They’ll live.” Her grandfather shrugged. “It matters more if Amelia likes it or not. Do you like it, my dear?”

Unknown to Amelia, her father’s eyebrow twitched at her grandfather’s words. Horace Hawthorne was such a fox, even in his old age. Michael was being kind to think about his friends’ distinguished taste buds, but in the end, Horace made himself look like a harmless doting grandfather who would support Amelia’s every decision.

As if to prove his point, Horace Hawthorne shot him the briefest smirk, before he dabbed at his lips with a napkin. Michael felt his stitches coming loose from annoyance, but it wasn’t as though he could say anything to his daughter.

What would he say? ‘Amelia, darling, I think your grandfather is trying to steal you from me!’ His daughter would only sigh and shake her head and think he was imagining things.

“Then… I’ll shortlist this, along with the salmon canapes,” Amelia said. At least those had made an impression, because the caterer had the salmon slices cut into pieces of fish. If anything else, any children attending would find it amusing.

“Do you have alternatives that are vegetarian, seafood free, grain free, lactose-free, gluten-free…” Amelia listed out the list of restrictions on her fingers. “Oh, and please make sure to have them carefully labeled. I don’t want any incidents.”

While the caterer hurriedly nodded and pulled out her menu to show off her edited recipes for Amelia to judge, Amelia could only stifle a sigh.

The guest list was long, and these rich people had a lot of dietary restrictions and allergies. Since Amelia didn’t want anyone to go into anaphylactic shock during the wedding banquet, she had to make sure there were alternatives for everyone.

If they were born in an older era, they would have been wiped out by natural selection. But since they were born rich and powerful, they were invited to Amelia’s wedding and Amelia had to make sure they stayed alive till the end.

Honestly, she wouldn’t put it past Emmeline to sabotage the wedding by retching, or ‘unknowingly’ feeding someone something they were allergic to. Better safe than sorry.

“Sorry I’m late,” Matteo said as he entered the private room. To Amelia’s pleasant surprise, Carlo was trailing behind him. “I was held up at work. I brought Carlo because we might need an opinion for the tastebuds of the youth.”

Actually, he just wanted to reward Carlo for all the hard work he had been putting in. He skipped lunch today, and his stomach was growling so loudly Matteo felt pity for him.

“It’s fine,” Horace Hawthorne beamed at Matteo, gesturing for him to sit. “We always have room for one more.” Michael was less pleased by his lateness, only giving him a curt nod.

However, the civility didn’t last very long. Matteo’s phone soon rang and he could only give a sheepish smile.

“Go,” Amelia said, shooing him off. Matteo offered her a thankful smile before slinking away.

Michael Kentwood’s face darkened even further, glowering as he watched Matteo leave shortly after arriving.

“Do you have a problem with Matteo as your son-in-law?” Horace asked, noticing the lack of enthusiasm. Who was this man to disapprove of Matteo? His taste must be lacking― especially if they allowed Amelia to marry Caleb Walton out of all people.

“No,” Michael said evenly. “I just wished he had been here since the beginning of the appointment. It’s not a good sign to be missing from your own wedding preparations.”

“At least he showed up in the end,” Horace said sharply. “Even if late, Matteo is a lot better than her previous husband in every way.”

Carlo, who was related to said previous husband, shot Amelia a worried look. Amelia quickly gestured for him to sit beside her, and he scuttled quickly to his seat and stuffed a canape into his mouth.

“That bar is the devil’s asshole,” her father retorted, and Amelia and Carlo both choked at the vulgarity. “Is this the standard you’re judging Matteo by? Not as bad as Caleb?”