Clenching her palms into fists, she exhaled in frustration. She could have sworn she had heard his voice. Had she imagined it? Or had Daniel really been there?
Elena quickly turned her head around, scanning her environment in search of him, but he was nowhere to be found.
As their luggage was packed into the car, Lily turned to face her. "I won't be going back to the house with you. I need to be somewhere," she said, adjusting the bag that held the pair of shoes she had bought for herself. "Take care of yourself—and my brother. And please, don't stress yourself, alright?"
Elena nodded as Lily stepped toward the road, raising a hand to hail a taxi.
"See you later, Elena," Lily called out cheerfully, waving with a bright smile before stepping into the cab.
Elena forced a weak smile in return, raising her hand to wave back. She could only hope that Lily wouldn't dwell too much on what had happened earlier.
Once inside the car, she rolled down the window, craving the cool breeze against her skin. But just as she was about to relax, her heart nearly stopped.
Daniel.
He was standing outside, looking directly at her with a knowing smile.
Shock rooted her to the spot, her body frozen as her breath hitched. But before she could react, another car suddenly passed between them, blocking her view.
When it moved away, he was gone.
Elena's hands flew to the window controls, hastily rolling it up. She clutched her dress tightly, her fingers trembling as she struggled to steady her breath.
She despised seeing him. And deep down, she knew—Daniel was up to something. Cunning as ever.
Returning home, Elena couldn't help but dwell on how terribly the shopping trip had ended. She wished there was some way she could talk to Lily, to make sense of everything that had happened. Managing to carry some of the shopping bags despite her swirling thoughts, she was caught off guard when the butler hurriedly approached her, his expression filled with concern.
"No, Miss Elena, you aren't meant to be stressing yourself. There are servants who are paid to handle this," he insisted, immediately taking the bags from her hands with a firm yet respectful grip.
"It's alright, I can manage. There's no need to trouble anyone," Elena protested, attempting to retrieve the bags from him.
"Please, Miss Elena, don't insist," the butler pleaded, his voice laced with urgency. "Mr. Ford wouldn't take it lightly if he were to see you overexerting yourself when there are plenty of servants assigned to these tasks."
"But it's really not a burden—I can handle it on my own," she added, still reaching for the bags. However, upon noticing the deep worry etched on the butler's face, she hesitated, then reluctantly let go.
"Go fetch the rest of her bags," he instructed a few nearby servants, who immediately rushed to comply.
"Thank you," Elena said softly, her voice carrying a mix of gratitude and resignation as she turned and walked straight to her room.
Stopping in her tracks, she turned back to face the butler. "Please, sir, can I get Lily's number from you?" she pleaded, her tone filled with urgency.
"Oh, I don't have Miss Lily's number. Why don't you try asking Master Ford?" he calmly suggested, his expression neutral yet observant.
"Okay, thank you," she replied politely.
"Miss Elena, just 'Morgan' is fine—that's my name," the elderly man kindly corrected her, a gentle smile on his face.
Smiling in understanding, she nodded before continuing her ascent up the grand staircase. Asking Ford for Lily's number wasn't something she considered difficult, but the thought of him questioning her reasons—or worse, discovering what had happened—unsettled her even more.
Upon entering her room, she was met with the sight of everything meticulously arranged. Even the shopping bags from earlier had been emptied, and the new clothes had been neatly folded and placed in the wardrobe.
A small smile crept onto her lips at the unexpected gesture, but she quickly shook off her thoughts and hurried into the bathroom to take a relaxing bath.
Reaching home, Ford felt a wave of frustration over how his day had gone. Nothing had gone as planned, and the lingering annoyance weighed heavily on him. Nevertheless, his thoughts kept drifting to Elena.
"Good evening, sir," Morgan, the butler, greeted respectfully. However, the moment his eyes landed on Ford's wounded hand, his expression changed. Alarmed, he rushed toward him. "Sir, are you alright?" he asked, his voice laced with concern, wondering what could have possibly led to his boss getting injured.
"Morgan, I'm fine," Ford responded dismissively, his focus elsewhere. "Where is Elena?" he asked, his sharp gaze scanning the surroundings as if expecting to see her any moment.
"Sir, Miss Elena is fine. She returned not too long ago," Morgan replied, though his eyes kept flickering back to Ford's injury, his worry evident.
"Where is she?" Ford pressed impatiently.
"Upstairs, sir," the butler informed him.
Without another word, Ford strode forward, heading straight for Elena's room. Upon reaching her door, he pushed it open and was about to step inside when it occurred to him—he hadn't knocked. But it was too late; he was already inside. The thought barely fazed him. After all, he owned the house, and knocking had never been a habit of his.
Closing the door behind him, Ford called out, "Elena?" He knocked lightly on the door—more as a courtesy than a request for entry—but there was no response.
"Elena, are you in?" he called again, stepping further into the room. As he moved deeper inside, the faint sound of running water and a soft, melodic voice reached his ears.
She was singing.
A small smile tugged at his lips as he paused, listening. Her voice was beautiful, effortlessly soothing, and for a moment, he found himself lost in it. As his gaze wandered around the room, appreciating its neat arrangement, his eyes inadvertently landed on the bathroom door—left slightly ajar.
And that was when he saw her.
His breath caught in his throat as his gaze locked onto the smooth, bare expanse of Elena's naked back. The dim lighting made her fair skin appear even softer, almost glowing under the steamy haze of the bathroom.
Realization struck like a lightning bolt.
Ford spun around instantly, his pulse hammering in his ears. His mind scrambled to process what he had just seen, but all he could do was gulp hard in an attempt to steady his already tense nerves.
Just then, the sound of the shower ceased.
"Is someone there?" Elena's voice came from inside the bathroom, laced with mild suspicion.
Panic surged through him. If she stepped out and saw him now, she might misunderstand everything. Without wasting another second, he swiftly and silently made his way to the door, opening it with as much care as possible before slipping out and shutting it behind him just as quietly.
Leaning against the closed door, he exhaled deeply, trying to calm his racing heart. But as soon as he shut his eyes, the image of Elena's slender, delicate form flashed vividly in his mind.
His eyes flew open in alarm.
Shaking his head as if to rid himself of the memory, he lifted a hand and gently slapped his cheek, hoping to snap himself out of it.
"Ouch," he hissed, wincing.
He had completely forgotten about his injured hand.
Closing his mouth immediately in fear that Elena might have heard him, Ford quickly hurried to his room.
The moment he stepped inside, he shut the door behind him and leaned against it, pressing a hand to his chest, only to feel the wild pounding of his heartbeat.
"Fuck… Elena," he muttered under his breath, running a frustrated hand through his hair. His body felt unnaturally warm, heat coiling deep inside him.
Feeling suffocated, he hurriedly attempted to pull off his clothes, but his wounded hand made the process painstakingly slow. The dull sting served as an unwelcome reminder to be careful, forcing him to take each movement slow and steady.
Finally, he managed to strip and made his way into the bathroom. Turning on the shower, he stepped under the cascading water, letting it run down his already overheated skin.
"Not again," he groaned in frustration, tilting his head back against the cool tiles.
He couldn't focus. No matter how hard he tried to push the thought away, his mind kept replaying the same image—Elena's naked backside, her smooth, delicate skin bathed in the dim bathroom light.
His body reacted instantly.
Ford could feel himself growing hard, and he cursed under his breath. It had been ages since he had been with a woman, even longer since he had last seen one completely bare. And now this—this unexpected, intoxicating glimpse of Elena—was wreaking havoc on his self-control.
He couldn't stop himself.
Letting out a sharp breath, his hand drifted lower. The moment he touched himself, a low groan escaped his lips. The sensation sent a rush of pleasure through him, making his muscles tense.
"Ahh…" he groaned again, his grip tightening. He loved the feeling, the way his body responded to the remembrance of Elena's naked body.
But he stopped.
He had to.
If he continued, he knew he would only crave more—crave her. And that was a dangerous path he couldn't afford to go down.
Exhaling harshly, he forced himself to finish his shower as quickly as possible. Stepping out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, he ran a hand over his face, trying to clear his head. But even as he moved, his body still betrayed him, his arousal evident through the fabric of his towel.