She Was Never Just a Pretty Face novel Chapter 75

They arrived back at the apartment half an hour later.

Surprisingly, Lori was inside.

She was in the kitchen, stocking the refrigerator with groceries. Hearing the door open, she glanced up. "Mr. Sanford, I've restocked the ingredients you asked for. The housekeeper will come in every three days to clear out any leftovers... And your suits are back from the dry cleaners."

Seeing that the two of them had returned together, Lori tactfully excused herself and left immediately.

The moment the front door clicked shut, Luther shrugged off his overcoat, opened the fridge, and asked naturally, "How does seafood pasta sound?"

Hilda was taken aback. "You know how to cook?"

He pulled out some ingredients, carrying them over to the counter to prep. "Mhm. I didn't take a housekeeper with me when I was studying abroad. Whenever I craved food from home, I had to make it myself. Over time, I just picked it up."

He told her to go relax, assuring her it would be ready soon.

Hilda didn't argue.

She really was exhausted.

She spent ten minutes in the bath, then curled up on the sofa for a quick nap. With her eyes closed, she drifted off into a hazy slumber, only vaguely aware of Luther walking into the room once before stepping out again.

The living room was lit only by a single floor lamp.

Bathed in the soft light, she looked incredibly delicate.

The thin robe she wore left little to the imagination, slipping loosely off her shoulders to reveal tempting flashes of skin. Luther gripped her slender waist, leaning down to claim her lips in a dominating kiss. She was deeply asleep, and in her dreams, she was far more passionate than when she was awake. As the pleasure washed over her, she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, breathing his name like a dreamy whisper. The sound drove him wild. He locked his arms securely around her, hungrily demanding more. He knew full well she needed two or three days to recover from last night's ordeal, but he simply couldn't resist the urge to take her again, desperately craving to see her unravel in pleasure for him.

Hilda slowly blinked awake.

Luther stared deeply into her eyes, trailing agonizingly slow kisses against her lips. His gravelly voice sounded rough, as if lined with hot sand. "Do you like it when I kiss you like this?"

Hilda couldn't form a response.

She just clenched her fists in the fabric of his shirt.

Her nails left faint creases in the fine material.

…

He usually rejected the calls.

But occasionally, he would answer.

Hilda never interrogated him—

she knew exactly where she stood.

Luther had never made her any promises. He was more than happy to enjoy her body while keeping Jolie on the hook.

…

On their final night in Switzerland, Annie was fast asleep in her room.

Hilda stepped out of the bathroom after a shower, only to see him standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, taking a call. His voice was soft, and he mentioned "Naomi Zeller" and "Mokshalia" a few times. Hilda instantly knew it was Jolie on the other end. She didn't say a word, merely pulling back the thin blanket and slipping into bed.

When Luther finally hung up and turned around, Hilda was lying with her back to him, feigning sleep.