Next Man, Better Plan novel Chapter 38

Half an hour later, Victoria rushed into the bar.

Seeing Quennel slumped over the counter, she was shocked. She turned to the bartender. "How much did he drink?"

The bartender shrugged, indicating he didn't know.

Quennel's peaceful, sleeping face looked like a sculpture. His features were so perfect that Victoria's heart raced just looking at him.

With the bartender's help, she managed to hoist Quennel onto her shoulder and struggled toward the exit.

It seemed Quennel had wanted to be alone; he had even sent his driver away.

Victoria hailed a cab and took him to his villa. Using Quennel's fingerprint to unlock the door, she finally managed to get him onto the bed, breaking into a sweat from the effort.

She went to the bathroom to wash her face. When she came out, Quennel was lying on his side, deep in sleep.

He was completely out of it. After all that jostling, he hadn't stirred at all.

Victoria didn't leave. Instead, she sat on the edge of the bed, watching Quennel for a long time.

She had fallen deeply in love with him from the very first moment she saw him.

Now, with the man she loved right in front of her, Victoria couldn't resist leaning in. She pressed her lips against his, lingering there.

There was a fatal magnetism about Quennel that drew her in irresistibly—a purely physical attraction.

Just looking at him made her body feel weak.

Victoria climbed onto the other side of the bed, wrapped her arms tightly around Quennel's waist from behind, and pressed her cheek against his back, holding him close.

The next morning, the scent of cooking wafted from the kitchen.

Quennel opened his eyes and saw that the other side of the bed had clearly been slept in. He was both surprised and pleased.

His head was pounding from the hangover, but he didn't care. He immediately got out of bed.

He hurried to the dining room, but when he saw Victoria in the kitchen, his expression visibly cooled.

"It's nothing," Victoria said, biting her lip. "I was afraid your stomach would be upset when you woke up, so I made you some porridge."

The young woman before him looked timid and cautious, as if afraid of displeasing him.

For some reason, Quennel's mind drifted back to the year Stephanie first moved in with the Gonzalez family.

Despite being the daughter of a prominent family, she didn't know how to cook, yet she had woken up before dawn on her second day to make porridge for the entire family.

When he asked her why, Stephanie had just given him a sad smile. "Because 'Ms. Jackson' is a thing of the past. I'm living under someone else's roof now. If I'm not diligent, what if your parents kick me out?"

Although she said it half-jokingly, they had grown up together, and Quennel could hear the cautiousness in her tone.

His heart had ached for her. From then on, he treated her even better and instructed every servant in the house never to let her into the kitchen again.

But thinking of Stephanie's arrogant face from last night, a wave of irritation washed over Quennel.

He had truly spoiled her. She was even starting to give him attitude.