Chapter 86
Joycelyn’s kiss was interrupted by a stranger, and she was mortified.
She pushed Ellison away, signaling for him to stop.
But Ellison didn’t budge. In fact, when they were interrupted, the playful look in his eyes darkened, and as he kissed Joycelyn, he shot Leah a sharp, almost threatening glance.
Leah froze, startled by his arrogant, domineering gaze.
“Sorry! Didn’t mean to interrupt,” she quickly muttered, offering a half-smile, as if trying to make light of the situation.
But only she knew how shocked and jealous she felt inside.
Without lingering, she turned and went straight into the room to check on Isolde.
Yet, the image of their passionate kiss stayed burned in her mind, haunting her.
Joycelyn, unable to get Ellison to let go, twisted her hand into his waist.
His clear, mesmerizing eyes stared at her, full of mock annoyance—like a playful little kitten ready to lash out.
She was clearly upset now.
Seeing the redness in her eyes, Ellison softly kissed her lips and then reluctantly pulled back, but not without a mischievous grin.
He was such a tease—more daring in broad daylight than at home.
Joycelyn, fuming, clenched her fists and punched him lightly before storming off to the sink with the fruit basket.
Ellison licked his lips, savoring the moment, his smile wicked.
Joycelyn stood at the sink, scrubbing the fruit, her head low, wishing she could peel the red apple in her hand to release her frustration.
“Still not enough? Taking it out on the apple?” Ellison asked, his arms crossed as he leaned against the counter, a smirk playing on his lips.
Joycelyn looked up sharply. Her fair face was flushed bright red, and her eyes—wet and fiery—locked on him in an angry stare.
Her lips, kissed only moments before, were still swollen and tender.
Despite her fierce expression, to Ellison, she looked like a delicate, feisty kitten—puffed up, ready to fight, but still utterly irresistible.
That smile of his, the one that had been buried for days, resurfaced now.
“Seventh day today, right?” Ellison asked, his voice dropping low, his gaze unreadable.
Joycelyn blinked. “What do you mean, seventh day?”
“Your period,” Ellison said, his voice thick with intensity, his eyes smoldering with almost fiery heat.
Despite the heated look, his lips curled into a teasing smile, betraying his usual charm.
Joycelyn, furious, splashed water in his face. “Just wake up already.”
Ellison didn’t flinch, letting the water drip down his face as he kept his gaze firmly on her, undeterred.
His eyes bored into her, calm on the surface, but his thoughts were filled with images of Joycelyn beneath him—seductive and alluring.
He swallowed hard, his body reacting with primal desire.
Hearing the soft hiss of his breath, Joycelyn knew she’d pushed her luck, so she continued to wash the fruit, pretending to focus on it.
But Ellison wasn’t leaving. He was watching her intently, his gaze piercing through her.
“You should go check on Isolde. No need to stay here with me,” Joycelyn muttered, hoping he’d take the hint.
“Grandma has them covered,” Ellison replied nonchalantly.
Joycelyn sighed, deciding not to press it further. Instead, she hurriedly finished washing the fruit.
Seeing her silence, Ellison reached out and pinched her flushed earlobe.
The rough touch made her shudder, her body jolting as though shocked by electricity.
“You…” Joycelyn turned her head, glaring at him, trying to escape his touch.
“What? What’s wrong?” Ellison’s eyes darkened, clearly amused by her flustered reaction.
“You’re so bad,” Joycelyn huffed after a long pause, finally blurting out her frustration.
“You too eager to gossip about your husband’s affair,” Ellison teased, his voice smooth.
It was clear he was getting back at her for teasing him earlier and gossiping about him.
“How nice,” Joycelyn said with a little sniff, completely unaware that her words were stepping right into Ellison’s danger zone. “Wherever you go, there are always amazing women admiring you. You’re such a heartthrob.”
“So you believe me?” Ellison asked, his voice dropping slightly, a dangerous edge in his tone.
“Of course. If you had a better option, you wouldn’t need to say anything. I’ll take care of it myself,” Joycelyn said with a sly grin, unfazed by any internal conflict.
Ellison’s expression tightened at her words, the playfulness suddenly gone. “Try running. I’ll break your legs first,” he said, his voice hardening.
“I’m done here. I’m not talking to you anymore,” Joycelyn said, picking up the fruit and heading to the coffee table by the bed.
She didn’t even look at him as his demeanor shifted.
Leah, seeing her return, acted as if nothing had happened. “Mrs. Grant, you’re so considerate. Taking care of all these little things yourself. No wonder Mr. Grant is so well-looked-after.”
Joycelyn, slightly taken aback by the compliment, only smiled and said, “You’re too kind.”
It wasn’t lost on her, though, that calling them “small things” made it sound like she was just the maid.
“Leah, you just started coming, right? I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” Joycelyn asked casually.
Leah smiled softly, nodding. “Yes, I only arrived recently with Kingston, invited by Mr. Grant. He’d been in seclusion before that.”
Leah spoke with grace, exuding the aura of a high-class lady, always poised and polite, with a serene, almost saintly presence.
Joycelyn nodded, slightly distracted. “Sounds good.”
“Kingston is the best traditional medicine practitioner in the country. Next time he’s here, I’ll introduce you,” Leah added, pride evident in her tone.
“Oh, we’ll see next time,” Joycelyn replied, uninterested.
Leah quickly read the room. Sensing Joycelyn’s disinterest, she gracefully shifted the conversation.
“Isolde is resting. If she feels uncomfortable when she wakes up, I’ll come back. I won’t disturb you for now,” Leah said with a smile, slowly getting up and speaking to Ellison, who had just emerged from behind her.
She knew when to step back, not forcing her presence.
Joycelyn, watching Leah leave, glanced at Ellison, who looked cold and unreadable. She pouted, avoiding him.
Without acknowledging him sitting beside her, Joycelyn took out her phone and changed her profile picture to one of Rocky, feeling content.
Ellison’s gaze remained fixed on her, dark and intense.
“Change it. I don’t want to keep looking at that dog’s face,” he said with a low growl.
“I like it. I want to,” Joycelyn replied, fully satisfied with her choice as she admired Rocky’s cute face on her screen.
Meanwhile, Leah, now outside the room, immediately began searching for information about Ellison’s wife.
She scoured the internet but found nothing clear—not even a wedding announcement or gossip.
Leah couldn’t help but wonder: could it be that they were faking their marriage to cover up something with Isolde?
