Chapter 917

The instant Lucian referred to her as "a little hellion," Rosalind's entire body tensed.

But now he was calling her "a mischievous kitten"?

Her breath hitched as she gaped at him in shock. Was he even listening to himself?

Rosalind was certain she wasn't some playful little feline. Absolutely not!

Lillian turned to Lucian. "Hurry up and prepare breakfast. We're starving."

Lucian set down his wine glass. "Very well. I'll cook something."

He strode toward the kitchen.

Rosalind shot Lillian an awkward glance. "I'll be right back—just need to freshen up."

Lillian nodded. "Take your time."

Rosalind retreated to the bedroom and immediately locked herself in the bathroom. She turned the shower on full blast, stepping beneath the scalding spray.

As the water cascaded over her shoulders, some of the lingering soreness in her muscles began to ease. Yet her porcelain skin remained littered with crimson marks—evidence of Lucian's possessive mouth from the night before.

It felt deliberate, as if he'd been determined to brand her. Given how easily her skin bruised, these wouldn't fade for days.

She made a mental note to wear high-necked clothing later. If Lillian noticed, the questions would be endless.

Rosalind squeezed her eyes shut, but her traitorous mind kept replaying Lucian above her—his sculpted features glistening with sweat, those powerful arms caging her in, the ripple of muscles along his back as he moved with relentless precision. It was like something from an erotic fantasy.

She shook her head violently.

What was wrong with her? She needed to stop this.

Then she felt warmth trickle down her thigh...

Lucian hadn't used protection last night.

She was already carrying his child, and now he'd been careless again.

Did he ever consider the consequences if she got pregnant a second time?

After her shower, Rosalind dressed in a turtleneck and slacks before rejoining the others. Lillian had just returned from her morning walk, and Lucian had finished preparing breakfast.

"Food's ready," Lucian announced.

"Perfect!" Lillian beamed, tugging Rosalind toward the dining table.

Lucian had prepared lobster bisque, serving them each a steaming bowl.

Lillian raised an eyebrow. "Lobster bisque? What's the special occasion?"

Lucian took his seat opposite them. "Thought you both needed something restorative."

Lillian chuckled. "I'm practically fully recovered."

Lucian's gaze slid to Rosalind. "Then it's for Ms. Fairchild."

Rosalind met his eyes. "Unnecessary. But thank you, Mr. Graves."

His lips quirked. "Even if you didn't exert much effort, nutrients are still important."

Rosalind froze. What kind of nonsense was he spouting?

Predictably, Lillian's curiosity ignited. "Rosalind didn't exert effort? What does that mean?"

Panicked, Rosalind stammered, "He's referring to—"

"We were debating human physiology last night. Quite... thoroughly," Lucian interjected smoothly.

Beneath the table, Rosalind kicked his shin hard.

Lucian merely smirked at her furious blush, her eyes screaming for him to stop talking.

Lillian frowned. "Physiology? What kind of discussion—"

"Maddy," Rosalind cut in desperately, "shouldn't you be heading to the lab soon?"

Now that Lillian had recovered, her research awaited. The reminder instantly distracted her.

"Oh! You're right. I need to leave soon."

Rosalind nodded. "Since you're better, I should return home too. I'll visit again soon."