Chapter 820

Lucian gave a firm nod. "Absolutely."

Rosalind hesitated, biting her lower lip. "Perhaps we should request separate rooms."

She turned toward the door, her fingers brushing the handle.

In one swift motion, Lucian caught her wrist and guided her backward until her shoulders met the cool wall. His towering frame caged her in.

"W-what are you doing?" Her breath hitched as she stared up at him.

He braced one hand against the wallpaper, his lips curling into that infuriating smirk she knew too well. "We're supposed to be lovers, darling. If you go out there demanding two rooms and William catches wind of it, our cover is blown. Do you really want to be sent packing?"

Rosalind shook her head vehemently. "Of course not! But sharing a bathroom feels... inappropriate."

Lucian's grin widened. "Why? Were you hoping to join me?" He deliberately lowered his voice on the last words, watching with satisfaction as her cheeks flushed crimson.

"Absolutely not!"

"Then what's the issue? We'll take turns. Unless..." He arched a brow, "you're imagining something else?"

Rosalind pressed her lips together. Damn him for being logical.

Lucian checked his watch. "William's expecting us for dinner. Who showers first—you or me?"

"You go," she muttered.

"Excellent."

He pushed off the wall, releasing her, and strode toward the bathroom without a backward glance.

When the door clicked shut, Rosalind exhaled sharply. The lingering scent of his cologne—something expensive with notes of sandalwood and bergamot—still clung to the air.

It was nothing like Everett's natural warmth that reminded her of sun-drenched meadows. Lucian smelled like polished leather and midnight secrets.

Yet sometimes, when the light caught his profile just right...

The shower turned on, snapping her from her thoughts. Rosalind pulled out her phone, scrolling through design concepts for her upcoming collection.

A melodic chime interrupted her.

Lucian's sleek phone vibrated insistently on the duvet. She hesitated—it felt intrusive to answer. But after the fifth ring, concern won out.

Knocking lightly on the bathroom door, she called, "You're getting persistent calls. Might be important."

"Bring it here," came his muffled reply.

Assuming he'd finished, Rosalind turned the knob—

And froze.

Her gasp echoed off the tiles as she whirled away, heart hammering. "You—you're not—!"

Steam curled around Lucian's bare torso, water glistening down his sculpted shoulders. He didn't even have the decency to look surprised.

"Problem, darling?"