Their Secret Obsession (A Reverse Harem) by Pippa Moon novel Chapter 279

Lottie POV

Walking back into Knox's room, memories of our nights here flooded my mind. Back then, his room was cluttered with gym equipment but otherwise clean—a reflection of his disciplined yet laid-back nature. But now, as I stepped inside, I was met with a scene that made my stomach churn.

Beer bottles littered every surface, empty and half-full cans were scattered across the floor, and dirty clothes formed haphazard piles in every corner. Damp, mouldy towels hung over the back of chairs, and the stale stench of days-old food mingled with the sour scent of spilt alcohol assaulted my heightened senses.

I tried not to let my disgust show, but it was hard to hide my reaction completely. Pregnancy had made my sense of smell more acute, and the overwhelming odours were almost too much to bear. Knox turned to look at me, a flicker of shame crossing his face as he noticed my expression.

"Connie, no good at cleaning?" I teased gently, attempting to lighten the mood. His face stiffened, and a shadow passed over his eyes.

"She isn't allowed in here." he replied with a shrug, trying to sound nonchalant. I raised an eyebrow, stepping carefully over a discarded pizza box.

"Why? She's your 'mate'. Surely she has to come in here with you, or people will talk." I asked, knowing I should not dig, but I couldn't help it.

He let out a bitter laugh, his hands finding their way to my cheeks as he closed the distance between us.

"Because she isn't you." he admitted, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that made my heart skip a beat. "The only girl allowed in here is you." Warmth spread through me at his words, and I felt a smile tug at the corners of my mouth.

"A maid wouldn't be a bad idea." I teased, but he shook his head.

"Only you," He repeated firmly, his eyes filled with adoration. I wanted to remind him you could get male cleaners these days, but I knew he wouldn't listen, so I tried a different tactic.

"But people will...talk..."

"Forget them," he cut me off, his thumb brushing lightly against my cheek. "I don't care what anyone but you thinks." His eyes searched mine, earnest and sincere. "I can see this upsets you. I'll clean it up after I clean myself up, so when you come to visit again, it's up to your standards." My heart swelled at his consideration. He wasn't being sarcastic or defensive; he genuinely wanted to make things better for me.

"You don't have to do that," I said softly, though the idea of a clean room was certainly appealing.

"I want to. You deserve better than... this mess." He smiled gently. I glanced around the room again, then back at him. His expression was a mix of determination and vulnerability.

"Well then," I said with a playful glint in my eye, "maybe we should just say 'fuck it.'" With a light laugh, I nudged an empty can with my foot, sending it rolling across the carpet until it hit a pile of clothes. The can was still half-full, and the fizzy liquid spilt out, the scent of stale beer wafting up.

"Fuck it?" he echoed, one brow arched in amusement.

"Yeah," I grinned. "Sometimes you just have to let go and not worry so much."

"Is that your professional advice?" He chuckled, the sound deep and warm and goddess knew I had missed it.