38

Chapter 38

I took a moment to calm myself before quickly showering and getting dressed in my work clothes. With my composure firmly in place, I walked into the kitchen, determined not to give Evelyn anything more to speculate about.

"Good morning, Evelyn," I greeted her, doing my best to sound casual.

She glanced up from slicing a fruit with a teasing smile. "Good morning, Carl. I trust you had a... restful morning?"

"It's been okay," I replied, keeping my tone neutral as I reached for the kettle.

"I was just about to check on you, actually. I was worried you'd overslept." she said, raising an eyebrow.  "Did I... interrupt something earlier?"

I froze, my hand hovering over a mug. Of course, she wanted answers. I could tell she was itching to know the reason why Richard was in my room, wearing my pants and nothing else on top.

"Not really," I said, forcing a shrug. "But Evelyn, I need a favor."

Her curious expression became more attentive. "Of course. What kind of favor?"

"Can you promise you won't mention this to anyone?" I said, avoiding her gaze. The last thing I wanted was for her to start digging. The more questions she asked, the closer she'd get to the truth. It was better to leave it ambiguous. At least it leaves more room for doubt.

Evelyn tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Hmm. I just have one question before I agree."

My stomach tightened. "What is it?"

"Yes or no?" she asked vaguely, but her eyes shows a hint of amusement.

"Yes?" I replied cautiously, not really sure what I'd just agreed to. Her face lit up, like I'd just confirmed something she'd been suspecting for a long time.

"I knew it!" she almost screamed in glee. "Don't worry, Carl. I didn't see anything."

Her promise was a relief, but the smirk on her face told me she'd seen enough to draw her own conclusions. My face burned. What conclusions though? God, what was she thinking? Knowing Evelyn, she probably assumed the most ridiculous scenario and probably she wasn't wrong.

"Thank you," I said stiffly, wishing the ground would swallow me whole.

I helped her finish preparing breakfast, trying to act normal despite the lingering embarrassment. When the food was ready, I carried the dishes into the dining room where the Preston family was already seated. Richard sat at the table dressed sharply in his work suit looking very professional. No one would suspect he'd spent the night in my room engaging in something scandalous.

I started serving plates, moving from one family member to the next. When I reached Richard, I leaned slightly to place the omelet on his plate. As I did, I felt his hand slid up and down my back in a way that was far from casual.

Startled, I jumped, making a noise somewhere between a squeak and a yelp.

All eyes turned to me.

"Are you alright, Carl?" Mrs. Preston asked her face marked with concern.

"Yes, ma'am," I said quickly, searching for an excuse. "It's nothing. Just, uh... felt like an insect brushed against me."

"Sounds like a pretty big insect to make you make that sound." Richard teased.

His lips twitched with amusement as I stomped on his foot under the table. He barely flinched, but at least he stopped whatever game he was playing.

"Are you sure there's nothing wrong with your back?" Mrs. Preston asked, clearly unconvinced. "You mentioned before that you slipped on the snow. You should have that checked."

"No, really, it's fine," I assured her, fighting the urge to glare at her son. How could I explain that he was the one making me uncomfortable right now.

Richard, acting innocent, thanked me for the omelet and began eating. I forced myself to focus on the task, pretending I wasn't boiling in anger.

Later, as I was putting away the washed dishes, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was Richard, of course.

Richard: I'm sorry I had to do that. You looked irresistible this morning.

I rolled my eyes, typing back quickly.

Me: You're lucky I didn't dump that omelet on your lap.

His response came almost instantly.

Richard: What, for appreciating you? You're overreacting, Carl.

Me: Overreacting? You practically groped me in front of your parents!

I groaned, resisting the urge to turn off my phone. A few moments later, another message came through.

Richard: I couldn't help myself.

Me: You're lucky I didn't have a knife with me. I would have cut your hand.

Richard: Sorry. I'll behave. Please don't be mad.

Me: If you keep this up, we're done. I mean it.

The dots blinked, and after what felt like forever, his response appeared.

Richard: Okay. I'll stop. But I really am sorry.

Later that afternoon, a delivery arrived addressed to me. The delivery guy handed me a package. I wasn't expecting anything today, so I opened it out of curiosity. Inside was a beautifully arranged bouquet of flowers. Tucked into the stems was a small card, with just two words written in Richard's familiar handwriting.

I'm sorry.

I stared at the card for a long moment, my irritation starting to wane. The gesture felt cheesy, like something straight out of a romance novel, but the worst part was that it worked. A reluctant smile starts to form at my lips as I slipped the card into my pocket.

My phone buzzed again.

Richard: Did you get my gift?

Me: It was unnecessary.

Richard: Did it work?

I hesitated before typing back.

Me: Maybe.

His response was a single word, but it was enough to affect me.

Richard: Good.

I could almost picture him saying it with that devilish grin of his. I shook my head, fighting back a giggle.

Damn him. He knows how to get under my skin, but somehow, he also knows how to make me smile.