His Last Command Came Back to Kill Him novel Chapter 132

After the spring outing wrapped up, the Sherwood family booked rooms at a nearby resort to unwind.

As husband and wife on paper, Whitley and Clive were naturally assigned to the same suite.

Whitley paused for a moment when she heard the arrangement, but quickly brushed it off. It wasn't exactly a shock. Yelena had been freely walking in and out of their marital home for ages, even sleeping in their master bedroom. Sharing a floor in a resort was hardly something to lose sleep over.

What she hadn't anticipated, however, was just how brazen Clive and Yelena would be, slipping in and out of the same hotel room together without a single care for who might be watching.

Whitley averted her gaze. Expressionless, she shut the door to her own room and turned back toward the campsite to help pack up the remaining equipment.

By the time she had safely escorted the intoxicated family elders and colleagues back to their respective rooms, picked up iodine and painkillers from the front desk, and dragged her exhausted body back to her suite, it was past ten at night.

She had just pulled out her pajamas, desperate for a hot shower and some rest, when the doorbell suddenly rang.

Frowning, Whitley assumed it was Chisholm Vance dropping by to discuss work. She set her things down and opened the door.

Standing there in cartoon pajamas was Leroy. He tilted his chin up, his face the picture of bratty entitlement. "Draw my bath."

He had grown so used to Whitley catering to his every whim that going without her service for even a day felt deeply inconvenient to him.

Whitley's eyes instantly cooled. "Who exactly do you think I am? Why on earth would I draw your bath?"

Leroy wasn't fazed by her icy tone in the slightest. He jutted his neck out defiantly. "Clive and Yelena are busy. You're the only one who's free."

"Besides, this is a suite, and I'm sleeping in your room tonight. If you don't take care of me, who will?"

He had no intention of interrupting his brother and Yelena, so naturally, he sought out the sister-in-law who had always been a total pushover.

Whitley's face darkened, and she moved to slam the door shut.

But Leroy was quick. He ducked under her arm, scurrying into the room and plopping himself right onto the center of the bed, making it clear he wasn't going anywhere. "Hurry up! I want my bath."

Leroy's face was flushed with anger as he struggled against her grip. "You're crazy! It's your job to take care of me! You really are an evil witch!"

*Click.*

The door swung open.

Clive stood in the doorway, a towel in one hand as he dried his damp hair. He was shirtless, water droplets sliding down his toned shoulders and tracing the sharp lines of his abs. It was obvious he had just stepped out of the shower, and the implication of what was meant to follow hung heavy in the air.

From inside the room, the faint sound of running water echoed from the bathroom. Yelena was in there.

Seeing Whitley, Clive's expression remained entirely neutral, devoid of any discernible emotion. "What is it?"

The sight of him like this burned her eyes. Whitley quickly looked away, her voice hard and brittle. "He's your brother. Take care of him yourself."

With that, she let go of Leroy and turned to leave.