âYes, I was just coming down for some water.
â
Lyndon adorned himself in a black silk loungewear, his gaze tender and brows relaxed.
âGood night, then.
â
âSweet dreams.
â
Lyndon observed her retreat upstairs before descending himself.
Catching Brianâs icy stare, he grinned knowingly.
âIt appears Mr.
Hughes might find slumber elusive tonight.
â
Brianâs arms crossed arrogantly, his expression retaining its customary haughtiness.
âWell, at least Iâve savored the sweetness.
â
Lyndon fetched water from the dispenser, unfazed.
âOh? Does that not make it more challenging for you to sleep?â
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Brian detected the derision in his intonation and scoffed, âI surmise youâre having trouble dozing off due to witnessing our excessive displays of affection.
â
Lyndon took a sip of water and cast a sidelong glance at him.
âGiven our collective insomnia, why not indulge in a drink?â he proposed.
Arching an eyebrow, Brian replied, âIf you extend the invitation, how could I possibly decline?â
Tension simmered in the air.
âWhat are we waiting for, then? Letâs proceed,â urged Lyndon.
Setting down the glass, Lyndon headed to the wine cabinet to procure a bottle.
Brian strolled leisurely to fetch the glasses.
The two men, one armed with wine, the other with glasses, ascended to the second-floor terrace.
On the third floor, Rosalynn made her way to her room.
Just as she approached her door, a nearby roomâs door swung open.
Kyson emerged, seemingly on his way out.
A momentary freeze enveloped them.
Then, Kyson lowered his gaze and greeted Rosalynn.