Chapter 595

Rosalind stirred awake to the sensation of movement beside her. The warmth of Everett's body leaving the bed made her eyelids flutter open reluctantly.

Last night had been a whirlwind of passion—from the bed to the shower, then to the chaise lounge by the window. They had lost themselves in each other until exhaustion claimed them. Now, every slight movement sent a delicious ache through her limbs, a reminder of their shared intensity.

"Leaving already?" Her voice was sleep-soft, muffled against the pillow. She had fallen asleep curled against his chest, his arms wrapped securely around her. Even his gentlest shift had roused her.

Everett turned, his gaze softening as it met hers. "I have to."

"What time is it?"

"Just past four. Sleep a little longer."

Rosalind reached for him, winding her arms around his waist like a vine clinging to its support. "Then stay. Just a little longer."

He needed to return to The Grand Celeste before Genevieve woke. There were matters to attend to. But the way Rosalind nestled against him, her touch pleading and sweet, unraveled his resolve.

With a sigh, he sank back onto the mattress, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. "Fine. A little longer."

Rosalind rewarded him with a drowsy but enthusiastic kiss before succumbing to sleep again, her lashes fluttering shut.

Everett didn't sleep. He held her, savoring the weight of her in his arms, the scent of her hair. The memories of last night burned bright in his mind—every touch, every whispered confession. The way she had surrendered to him completely, as if she had always been his.

It had been reckless. Impulsive. And yet, now that he had claimed her, he couldn't imagine letting go.

His fingers traced the curve of her cheek, the softness of her lips. Unable to resist, he kissed her again—her temple, the corner of her mouth, the pulse at her throat. He buried his face in the silk of her hair, breathing her in.

All this time, he had restrained himself. But now that the floodgates were open, the depth of his feelings threatened to drown him. He wanted her. Needed her. Forever.

His arms tightened around her, pulling her flush against him—perhaps too roughly. A faint whimper escaped her, her brow furrowing in discomfort.

Everett immediately loosened his grip, chastising himself. She was delicate. Fragile in ways he couldn't afford to forget.

Once her breathing evened out again, he carefully disentangled himself. Dressed swiftly. Pressed one last kiss to her lips before slipping out the door.

Back at The Grand Celeste, Genevieve was still asleep when he returned.

Everett settled beside her, his mind still full of Rosalind as he closed his eyes.

At seven, Genevieve stirred. She blinked up at him, realization dawning as she found herself in his arms.

Everett sat up. "Morning."

Genevieve pushed herself upright, frowning slightly as she tried to piece together the night before. She remembered sitting on his lap, the warmth of his hands on her waist—but after that, nothing.

"Did we...?" Her voice wavered.

Everett stood, his expression cool. "Last night, you and your father drugged me to get what you wanted. Congratulations. You got it."

Understanding flickered in her eyes.

She scrambled off the bed, reaching for him. "Are you angry? Please don't be mad—I was scared you'd reject me, so I—"

Everett stepped back, just out of reach. "Genevieve, I already agreed to date you. There was no need for this."