They could have remained like family, perhaps even grabbing a drink together at a bar without any extra complications. Yet, he chose to frolic outside and return home, expecting her to offer love after sating his desires.
Love, huh?
Did she still feel that?
In the dimly lit study, Alexis’ face felt warm, and she made no attempt to wipe it.
She ignited a long, slim cigarette, took two puffs, and then let it burn between her fingers as she lost herself in thought.
Meanwhile, Leonel was in the kitchen preparing dinner.
He rapped gently on the study door.
“Alexis, dinner is ready.”
It took about five minutes before she finally emerged from the study.
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Her expression was remarkably composed.
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Beneath the crystal lamp, the dining table was meticulously. A vase in the middle adorned with roses added a touch of elegance.
Alexis took her seat.
Leonel observed her as she glanced up with a faint smile.
“You cook quite well! Mustn’t have been easy with just one hand, huh?”
“I’ll be your personal chef for a lifetime if it tickles your taste buds!”
“I’m afraid I can’t afford the services of you, Mr. Douglas.”
Alexis found herself not particularly hungry. After finishing her meal, she retreated to the study. Meanwhile, Leonel, embracing the role of a diligent homemaker, tidied up the house with the precision of a devoted husband and even took care of the trash.
Downstairs, he savored a cigarette.
As wisps of smoke swirled around him, a sleek black vehicle glided to a halt. The car door opened, revealing an impeccably dressed elderly gentleman.
It was Waylen.
Even Leonel, typically unflappable, momentarily lost his poise. He extinguished his cigarette and greeted, “Mr. Fowler!”
Waylen was holding a thermal food box.
He scrutinized Leonel before shifting his gaze upstairs. His tone took on a slightly elevated pitch as he asked, “Are you Living here?”
Leonel responded with a modest smile, neither confirming nor denying.