The Windfalls of Love (Roxanne and Harrison) novel Chapter 309

Evelyn felt not a whisper of shame for her indulgence.

Life was tough enough, and she was dead set on living it up—shallow but merry, avaricious yet lustful.

After all, why not revel in what made her happy?

Besides, Dominic was bound to be hers eventually. Why put on a show for anyone else?

But when she stole that glance.

Holy smokes!

Her usually composed, dignified face flushed to the color of beetroot.

It was her first time laying eyes on that.

Was it his towering height that made everything seem so exaggerated?

One look was all it took for Evelyn to shy away.

She was unexpectedly bashful, covering her eyes in haste.

Having relieved himself, Dominic zipped up and reached out a hand.

"Eve, all done here. Where you at? Could use a hand washing up," he called out, his hand waving in the air, searching.

"Eve, you still here?"

But Eve's voice was nowhere to be found; she was too busy blushing to even muster a peep.

Evelyn’s mind had already wandered off, filled with images not quite suitable for a lady of her stature.

Evelyn, rapidly approaching her thirties, was still a virgin, her curiosity untamed as a cat's.

To the outside world, she was President Miller, a paragon of poise and acumen.

But it was all a front.

At nineteen, she was thrust into the role of family CEO, a role she had no choice but to accept.

When she was nineteen, she was pushed onto the stage, forced to take over the family business.

She longed simply to be an ordinary girl, to fall head over heels in love.

But fate had different plans from the moment she was born—plans that involved carrying burdens an ordinary girl could not.

She had never been in a relationship. No wonder she was blushing.

Assuming she'd left, Dominic called out again, "Eve, you there?"

"Oh, yeah, here! Sorry about that," Evelyn's voice came out artificially deep, "Got caught up replying to a text. Let me help you out."

Her delicate, pale hand reached for his, gripping firmly.

Dominic was her endgame, the one she would catch no matter what.

One day, she would always hold his hand, grow old with him, and never let go.

"Eve," Dominic asked, "how long have you been a caregiver?"

"Don't you worry, Dominic. I've got this. Been in the biz for three years now. I'll take good care of you," Evelyn maintained her ruse, her voice husky.

Dominic didn't respond, but his brow furrowed in thought.

A caregiver with three years under his belt shouldn't have such soft hands, he mused. They felt more like a young woman's, pleasant to the touch.

He didn't dare hold on any longer—her silky skin was sending tingles straight to his heart.

Once at the bedside, Dominic let go. "Thanks, Eve."

"No need to be formal, Dominic. We're practically family," Evelyn replied, still in her feigned deep voice, "I'll bunk next to you tonight. Wake me up if you need anything."

Blind to the world, Dominic could only sense darkness. "Is there a cot?"

"Yep. Right here. Super convenient."

"Hope it's comfy enough."

"Don't worry about me. It makes it easier to look after you."