chsdbacks Chapter 683 683: Normality? (Part 3)
Chapter 683 683: Normality? (Part 3)
After some time, Don found himself standing outside the room that had been assigned to him.The door was already open and a cool breeze drifted through the doorway, carrying the scent of flowers from the gardens below.
Somewhere deeper inside, faint sounds emerged from the bathroom.
The quiet clink of something being moved, water running briefly before stopping, and a cabinet door closing.
He stepped inside, finding that the room somehow looked even more organized than when he had left.
The bedding had been straightened until not a single crease remained. The decorative pillows sat perfectly aligned against the headboard.
Even the paintings appeared different. Not because they had changed, but because each frame now hung with exact precision.
The balcony doors remained open as moonlight spilled through them and stretched across the floor in pale strips.
Winter emerged from the bathroom carrying a small basket.
She paused when she noticed him.
Don glanced around the room once more before looking at her. "You've been busy."
Winter appeared pleased by the observation.
She immediately crossed the room and moved toward the entrance. The door swung shut behind him.
CLICK~
By the time Don looked back, she was already standing beside him.
He began reaching for his shirt, but Winter intercepted the movement.
Without saying a word, she caught the hem of the fabric and pulled it upward.
Don raised an eyebrow. Winter continued regardless, and a few seconds later the shirt disappeared.
Next came his shoes.
She knelt briefly and loosened the laces before sliding each shoe free.
A moment later she set them neatly beside the wall.
His jeans followed.
The process happened with such practiced confidence that Don barely had time to react before she handed him a folded towel.
He accepted it.
Winter gathered the discarded clothing and began folding each piece.
Every wrinkle disappeared beneath her fingertips.
"There is nothing of grave importance to report as of yet," she said.
Her attention remained on the clothes. "By my calculations, the property is secure. Perimeter defenses remain active. Security personnel are competent."
A brief pause followed. "Though their patrol rotations could be optimized."
Don wasn't surprised. "Of course they could."
"I have already forwarded a revised schedule to their supervisor."
Don shook his head. "Of course you did."
Winter finished folding the last article of clothing.
Then her gaze settled on the pile.
Several seconds passed.
"I also detect molecular traces of—"She stopped.
Her head tilted slightly. "I detect scent markers associated with sexual activity on your clothing."
Don immediately knew where this was going.
Winter looked down at the folded garments. "I shall dispose of them."
Don shrugged. "Okay?"
That seemed to satisfy her so he turned and headed toward the bathroom.
Nearly half an hour later, Don lay on top of the enormous bed.
The pajama set Winter had selected fit surprisingly well.
The fabric felt soft against his skin.
The sheets beneath him remained cool and crisp while moonlight drifted into the room through the open balcony doors.
Outside, distant insects filled the night with a steady rhythm.
The sound blended with rustling leaves and the occasional movement of branches somewhere below.
One of Don's feet moved absently against the mattress.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
His gaze remained fixed on the ceiling.
The decorative molding, the subtle texture in the plaster and the shifting shadows created by the balcony doors.
Winter had left some time ago.
Officially, she claimed she was checking whether everyone had settled into their assigned rooms.
Don suspected the truth was much simpler.
She had probably gone to terrorize the estate staff.
He could already picture it.
Winter standing beside a horrified maid while explaining the mathematically superior method of arranging decorative pillows.
Or perhaps correcting folding techniques, reorganizing closets and providing unsolicited lectures regarding vacuum cleaner efficiency.
A faint smile appeared. Then it disappeared.
The room gradually grew quieter.
His breathing slowed as the mattress seemed softer.
His body finally began noticing how exhausted it actually was.
The past few days had been one disaster after another.
Combat, injuries, running, planning and more combat.
The exhaustion lingered beneath everything.
Now that things had finally become calm, it began collecting payment.
His eyelids felt heavier and the sounds outside grew distant.
Sleep crept closer.
Then—
KNOCK~
Soft. Barely audible.
Most people probably would've missed it.
But Don's eyes opened immediately.
A few seconds passed.
Then another knock followed.
KNOCK~
This time he heard something else.
The faint sound of movement outside.
Feet shifting against the hallway floor.
Don pushed himself upright.
The mattress sank beneath him before slowly rising again as he stood.
He crossed the room and reached the door.
When he opened it, he expected to find a maid.
Instead, Samantha stood in the hallway.
A silky robe wrapped comfortably around her figure.
The fabric flowed almost to her ankles while the loose belt gathered at her waist.
Her hair looked slightly disheveled. Like someone who had already tried sleeping and failed.
The moment she saw him, her expression softened. "Sorry, sweetie."
Her voice came out quietly. "Did I wake you?"
Don stepped aside. "Not at all."
A yawn threatened to escape. "I was just lying down."
Samantha entered. Her feet moved quietly across the polished floor.
She looked around as she walked.
The paintings.
The chandelier.
The balcony doors standing open beneath the moonlight.
"All the rooms here are quite lovely."
She stopped near one of the paintings.
"It feels like a palace."
"It does." Don closed the door behind her.
Then he crossed back toward the bed and practically collapsed onto it.
The mattress welcomed him immediately.
A long sigh escaped his chest.
Samantha turned toward him.
A small smile tugged at her lips. "Tired?"
"A little." His answer earned an unimpressed look.
Samantha folded her arms. "A little?"
Don stared at the ceiling. "...Maybe more than a little."
"That's what I thought." She moved toward the bed.
The mattress dipped slightly as she sat near his hip.
Moonlight spilled across part of her robe while the room's softer lighting illuminated the rest.
For a few moments she simply looked at him.
Really looked at him.
At the exhaustion he wasn't bothering to hide anymore.
Concern gradually appeared in her eyes.
"Do you have a lot on your mind?" Her voice lowered slightly. "I know a lot must have happened when you were out in the city."
Don kept his gaze on the ceiling.
The room remained pleasantly cool.
Outside, leaves rustled softly.
His chest rose and fell with a slow breath.
"A little." The answer came honestly. "But I'm managing."
Samantha moved her hand to Don's stomach, fingers pressing lightly through the thin fabric of his shirt.
The warmth of her palm seeped into him, slow and steady.
His muscles tensed for just a second before relaxing beneath her touch.
"Is there anything I can do to help you sleep?" Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper, as if afraid to disturb the quiet of the room any further.
Don turned his head slightly, eyes meeting hers.
The moonlight caught the faint wetness at the corner of her lips—nervousness, or maybe just the lingering taste of whatever she'd last sipped.
The words spurred Don's cock to twitch in his pants.
He saw how innocent her face looked behind her glasses, but also the way the silky robe clung to the deep cleavage of her well-shaped breasts, barely restraining them.
The fabric dipped with every breath, teasing the soft swell beneath.
Samantha's fingers trailed lower, tracing the faint outline of his growing hardness through the thin fabric of his sleep pants.
Her nail scraped lightly, just enough to make him exhale a little more roughly through his nose.
"You're tense," she murmured, her voice honey-thick but warm.