The CEO's Midnight Remedy novel Chapter 61

**Dust Writes New Stories by Rei Holt Wilder**

**Chapter 61**

The atmosphere around us felt almost dreamlike, a peculiar blend of familiarity and novelty that caught me off guard. This was not the austere, business-minded Devon I had come to recognize over the past few encounters. No, this was a different version of him—still exuding confidence and a hint of arrogance, yet somehow more relaxed, almost teasing in his demeanor.

I glanced around the room, my heart racing as I searched for my dress, but it was nowhere in sight. “Where are my clothes?” I asked, my voice tinged with urgency.

Devon, still lounging on the bed, responded with a casual air, “They’re probably still in the car. You weren’t exactly in a rush to gather them when we arrived.”

A wave of embarrassment washed over me, making my cheeks flush. “I need something to wear,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper, feeling the vulnerability of the moment.

With an ease that took me by surprise, Devon rose from the bed, displaying his impressive physique without a hint of modesty. I couldn’t help but admire the way he moved, confident and assured, before he slipped into a pair of boxer briefs and vanished into what I assumed was his closet. Moments later, he reappeared, holding a crisp white shirt and a tailored gray suit jacket.

“These should suffice for now,” he said, setting the garments down on the bed with a casual flick of his wrist.

I waited until he turned his back, my heart racing with a mix of eagerness and trepidation, before I slipped out from beneath the sheets. Pulling on his shirt, I was struck by how it fell to mid-thigh, leaving my legs exposed and bare. I added the suit jacket, which was comically oversized on my frame, but at least it offered a semblance of coverage. As I caught my reflection in the full-length mirror across the room, I couldn’t help but chuckle at my own appearance; I looked like the quintessential morning-after cliché—disheveled hair, smudged makeup, and drowning in a man’s clothing.

When I turned around, I found Devon watching me with an intensity that sent a thrill through my veins. His jaw tightened as his gaze traveled from my bare legs up to my face, a predatory focus that made my pulse quicken.

“Take those off,” he commanded, his tone suddenly shifting to one of authority. The darkening of his eyes and the finality in his voice sent a shiver down my spine. “Go put on the clothes I prepared for you.”

“Excuse me?” I bristled, taken aback by the abruptness of his tone.

“Those clothes. Off. Now.” He strode purposefully toward the door. “There are more suitable options waiting for you in the living room.”

With that, he exited the bedroom, leaving me in a state of confusion and mild offense. The sudden change in his demeanor was jarring, like a sharp turn on a winding road that left me feeling emotionally disoriented. One moment he was almost warm, and the next, he was back to issuing cold, authoritative commands.

“Your car is waiting downstairs,” he informed me, his voice smooth and professional. “The driver will take you wherever you need to go.”

“Thank you,” I replied, suddenly at a loss for how to conclude our encounter. Were we reverting back to strictly business? Should I bring up the intimacy of last night? The uncertainty gnawed at me, frustrating me after the connection we had shared.

Devon resolved the dilemma by stepping forward and placing a soft kiss on my forehead. It wasn’t passionate like the night before, but it wasn’t entirely impersonal either; it was a gentle reminder of the bond we had forged.

“We’ll talk soon,” he promised, his voice low and reassuring.

As the elevator doors opened, I stepped inside, turning to face him as they began to close. Just before they shut completely, I caught the ping of Devon’s phone and noticed him check the screen. His expression remained neutral, but as the elevator descended, my phone chimed with a new message.

From Devon: [Next time, you’re not allowed to drink that much in public.]