Taking deep breaths to steady himself, Ford pressed his manhood down, suppressing the overwhelming urge coursing through him. His body was tense, his mind battling for control.
He exhaled sharply and walked toward the table, his steps deliberate. Reaching out, he carefully picked up the glass jug brimming with water. With a steady hand, he poured the cool liquid into the empty glass beside it, watching as the ripples settled.
Hurriedly, he lifted the glass to his lips and gulped down the entire contents, the water soothing his parched throat. He then took a deep, measured breath, finally feeling a semblance of calm return to his frayed nerves.
The pounding in his chest began to subside, and his muscles gradually loosened. Yet, his relief was short-lived—barely three minutes had passed when a gentle knock echoed through the quiet room.
"Who is that?" Ford coldly ales, his voice edged with irritation. The last thing he needed at that moment was an interruption. He craved nothing more than solitude—just rest and sleep. His throbbing headache was already giving him enough trouble.
Then, the knock came again—this time, slightly louder. A flicker of frustration flared in his chest.
"Who is that? What do you want?" he thundered, his patience wearing thin.
"Sir Ford, it's me, Elena," a soft, gentle voice responded from the other side of the door.
"Elena," he whispered to himself, her name lingering on his lips. His irritation momentarily faded as he instinctively reached for the door handle. But just as his fingers brushed against it, he froze.
"Oh no," he muttered under his breath, suddenly realizing he was still half-naked.
"Hold on, I'm coming," he called out hurriedly. Spinning toward his wardrobe, he frantically rummaged through his clothes. His hands finally landed on a shirt, and he quickly pulled it over his head. Wasting no time, he grabbed a pair of trousers, discarding the towel around his waist and dressing himself properly before making his way to the door.
Rushing to the door, he swung it open, only to find Elena standing with her back to him. The sight unexpectedly triggered a memory—her bare, delicate frame flashing through his mind. A rush of heat crawled up his neck. Clenching his jaw, he quickly shut his eyes, willing himself to shake off the vivid image.
Sensing his presence, Elena turned around, her gaze immediately landing on his bandaged hand. Her brows knitted together in concern.
"Are you alright? What happened to you?" she asked, her voice laced with worry.
Ford instinctively tried to conceal his injured hand, shifting it behind his back. "It's fine. I'm alright. It's nothing—just a little scratch," he replied, his tone dismissive.
But Elena refused to take his word for truth. It was clear that the injury wasn't a small one. She stepped forward, reaching for his arm. Before he could pull away, her fingers wrapped around his wrist, bringing his wounded hand into view. Her eyes widened as she examined the injury.
"This is serious. Are you in pain?" she asked, concern deepening the furrow in her brow.
Ford chuckled softly, amused by her intense focus on his hand. "No, I'm not," he assured her, a teasing smile playing on his lips. He tilted his head slightly, watching her expression. "Are you worried about me?"
At his words, Elena's eyes flickered with something unreadable. Then, as if realizing she had gotten too close, she abruptly pushed his hand away.
"Ahh—" Ford hissed through clenched teeth, recoiling slightly from the sharp sting of her forceful reaction.
Elena's eyes widened in alarm. "I'm sorry!" she blurted out, guilt flashing across her face. She hesitated before clearing her throat and regaining her composure. "Mr. Morgan said you asked for me," she added, lifting her gaze to meet his.
At the mention of her presence in his room, Ford felt an uneasy shift in his chest. His fingers twitched slightly, a fleeting sense of panic creeping in.
Had she seen him?
"Did you come into my room earlier?" Elena asked, her voice quiet but firm. "It felt like someone was there…"
Her piercing gaze searched his face, waiting for an answer.
"No! I wasn't!" Ford denied abruptly, his voice a little too loud. Realizing his mistake, he quickly tried to correct himself. "I mean, I didn't—I wasn't in your room. Yes, I asked the butler about your whereabouts," he added hastily, struggling to keep his tone steady and not appear suspicious.
Elena arched a brow, noticing his unease. His sudden tension didn't go unnoticed, but she decided to let it slide. He had just returned from the office with an injured hand, so perhaps he was simply in a bad mood.
"So, what was it you wanted to say?" she asked, folding her arms across her chest.
Ford hesitated for a brief moment before asking, "Lily didn't return with you?" His tone was casual, oblivious to the tension that had lingered between his sister and Elena earlier.
Elena lowered her gaze slightly, her fingers twitching at the mention of Lily. "Umm… she said she had somewhere important to be," she replied, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She wasn't good at hiding her emotions, and Ford immediately picked up on the subtle change in her demeanor.
His brows furrowed slightly. "Did anything unusual happen?" he asked, studying her face, searching for an answer beyond her words.
Elena's lips curled into a forced smile. "Oh no, nothing happened. It was lovely going out with your sister. She made the outing fun," she replied, her tone deliberately light.
Ford wasn't entirely convinced, but he decided not to push further. "If you say so," he murmured, letting the matter rest . He straightened slightly before suggesting, "Let's have dinner together."
Elena shook her head almost immediately. "I'm not hungry, I'm okay. Thank you. Enjoy," she said quickly, before turning on her heels and hurrying off to her room.
Ford watched her retreating figure, his jaw tightening slightly. Something was off, and he couldn't shake the feeling that Elena was keeping something from him.
Ford watched as Elena walked away, his gaze lingering on her retreating figure. Something about her demeanor still bothered him, but before he could dwell on it further, the sharp ringing of his phone snapped him out of his thoughts.
Sighing, he pulled the device from his pocket and glanced at the caller ID. His expression darkened. Sia.
"Sia," he muttered in frustration, rubbing his temple. "Why is she calling me again? I thought I had already settled this."
Annoyance flared in his chest as he let the phone ring unanswered. He had no intention of speaking to her. Yet, the device continued to vibrate persistently in his hand, her determination evident. With a deep sigh, he silenced the call and shoved the phone back into his pocket before making his way down the stairs toward the dining hall.
Meanwhile, in her room, Elena rolled from one side of her bed to the other, unable to find a comfortable position. She let out a small groan of frustration, staring up at the ceiling. A pang of regret gnawed at her—she should have asked Ford for Lily's number before she left.
Sitting upright, she grabbed her phone and checked the time. It was already late. Would Lily still be awake by now? she wondered, biting her lip. After a brief moment of consideration, she shook her head. I'll just ask for it tomorrow.
Her thoughts shifted as a sudden dryness in her throat made her realize how thirsty she was. Reaching for the jug of water on her nightstand, she lifted it only to find it completely empty. She sighed but chose to ignore it, lying back down and squeezing her eyes shut in an attempt to force herself to sleep.
Minutes passed. Then more. Yet sleep remained elusive, and the thirst in her throat only grew worse.
Letting out an exasperated sigh, she finally threw the covers off and stood up. Grabbing the empty jug, she decided to head to the kitchen to fetch some water.
Careful not to make any noise, she opened her bedroom door slowly and stepped out, closing it just as gently behind her. Ford's room was close to hers, and she didn't want to risk waking him. The hallway was dimly lit, the soft glow of the sconces casting long shadows along the walls.
Once in the kitchen, she filled her glass and took slow, satisfying sips, relishing the coolness of the water as it eased her parched throat. She then refilled the jug, ensuring it had the right amount of water before turning to leave.
But just as she was about to step out, a faint noise caught her attention.
Her brows furrowed slightly. What was that?
Curious, she glanced around, her gaze sweeping over the dimly lit space. Then, in the far corner of the room, her eyes landed on two figures—a man and a woman.
Her breath hitched when she realized what she was seeing.
Two servants, pressed close together, were making out passionately, completely unaware of her presence.
Shocked, Elena froze, her mind momentarily blank. She had not expected to stumble upon such a scene. In her panic, she instinctively turned to leave, but in her haste, her elbow knocked against a flowerpot resting on the counter.
Crash!
The sound shattered the silence, echoing through the kitchen.
The two servants, who had been lost in their intimate moment, immediately pulled apart. Their eyes widened in horror as they spotted her standing there.