Don't Be a Tease, Mr. Blackwood

Chapter 93: Chapter 93: Sleeping in Each Other’s Arms

Claire Sterling’s eyes darted around before she stood on her tiptoes and whispered into Oscar Lynch’s ear, "I have a little inside info. Mr. Blackwood and that woman are in a contract marriage."

Oscar Lynch’s eyes widened. "For real?"

"The info is one hundred percent solid."

"Where did you hear this?"

"You don’t need to know."

"This isn’t something to joke about."

Claire Sterling rolled her eyes at him. "Who’s joking with you?"

She linked her arm with his as they walked out of the restaurant. But instead of heading toward the parking lot, she stopped, unlinked her arm, and hailed a taxi. "I’m heading back. Thanks for the treat, Mr. Lynch."

"You’re not coming with me?"

"We just had our fun last night. Maybe another time."

"But I’m not done having fun."

Claire Sterling hesitated for a moment, then waved the taxi away.

She followed Oscar Lynch into his sports car, fished a cigarette from her purse, placed it between her lips, and lit it with a lighter.

"Ava..."

"Call me Claire."

Oscar Lynch was getting a headache from her games. "Didn’t you tell me last night *not* to call you Claire, but to call you Ava?"

"’Ava’ is only for the bedroom."

"What kind of weird rule is that?"

It was just a name. Oscar Lynch laughed with exasperation and decided not to argue the point with her. He got back to business. "Are you sure Mr. Blackwood and that woman are in a fake marriage?"

"You can’t exactly call it fake. The license is probably real. It’s just that they signed a marriage of convenience agreement beforehand."

Oscar Lynch grew curious about the woman in his passenger seat. "What’s your story? How would you know about Mr. Blackwood’s affairs?"

Claire Sterling blew a smoke ring at him, smiling without a word.

The more secretive and mysterious she acted, the more excited Oscar Lynch became.

When they got to the hotel, he began to roughly tear at Claire Sterling’s clothes the moment they entered the room.

Half an hour later.

The man lay on the bed, gasping for air, completely spent.

Claire Sterling lay on her side next to him, propping her head up with one hand while smoking a cigarette.

"Mr. Lynch, you should really look into some tonics."

Oscar Lynch: ...

His male pride challenged, Oscar Lynch refused to accept it. He snatched the cigarette from her hand, crushed it out in the ashtray, and pinned her beneath him, wanting to go for another round.

But a few minutes later, he couldn’t perform.

Claire Sterling pushed him off, went into the bathroom to shower, and by the time she came out, Oscar Lynch was already asleep.

She picked up her clothes, put them on piece by piece, left the hotel, and hailed a cab straight to Lydia Wynn’s home.

「 」

「Meanwhile.」

Sophie Shaw finished preparing the hangover soup.

The ingredients were candied oranges, candied hawthorn, white sugar, white vinegar, and sweet osmanthus syrup. The resulting soup was sweet and sour, good for whetting the appetite, sobering up, and quenching thirst. All the ingredients had been in the fridge, so Sophie figured Lawson must have prepared them for Alaric. He probably drank often at business functions, and Lawson made sure he could easily make some soup to sober up whenever he needed.

She carried a bowl into the living room and set it on the coffee table.

Alaric Blackwood was leaning back against the sofa, massaging his temples with one hand. The liquor had a strong kick, and he was starting to feel the alcohol go to his head.

Sophie had just sat down beside him when the man turned on his side and laid his head in her lap.

"Wife, my head hurts."

His voice was low and a little hoarse.

Sophie really didn’t know what to do with him, so she started massaging his head.

"You were just having dinner with a friend, not entertaining clients. Why did you drink so much?"

Alaric Blackwood kept his eyes closed and didn’t respond. Thinking he had fallen asleep, Sophie quickly gave his shoulder a little push. "Mr. Blackwood, don’t fall asleep."

"Not asleep."

"Drink the hangover soup first."

She helped Alaric Blackwood sit up and picked up the bowl of soup from the coffee table. It wasn’t so hot anymore.

"You feed me."

The man leaned back against the sofa, fully committed to his act of helplessness.

Sophie held the bowl of soup and hesitated for a few seconds before stirring it with the spoon, scooping some up, and lifting it to the man’s lips.

Alaric Blackwood frowned after a few sips.

"It’s too sweet."

"I’ll use less sugar next time."

The man stared at her cherry-red lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing. "I’m hungry."

"Didn’t you eat enough at dinner?"

"..."

Seeing that he wasn’t talking, Sophie simply went back to feeding him the soup.

’This whole bowl should be pretty filling,’ she thought.

However, Alaric Blackwood turned his head away. "I don’t want any more."

"I’ll help you back to your room."

"I want to sleep in your room tonight."

Sophie’s heart skipped a beat. She put the bowl back on the coffee table and instinctively stood up, putting some distance between herself and Alaric Blackwood.

"You’ve had too much to drink. You’re making unreasonable demands."

A faint smile touched the corner of Alaric Blackwood’s lips. "Then you can sleep in my room."

"Is there a difference?"

The man stood up and was in front of her in two steps.

When they left the restaurant, he had been so unsteady on his feet that he needed her to support him the whole time. But now he was walking in a straight line, his posture perfectly erect.

’Could the hangover soup really be that effective?’ she wondered.

Suddenly, the man cupped the back of her head and kissed her.

The sweet and sour taste of fruit filled her mouth. Her eyes flew wide, and her brain shut down.

The world spun around her. Alaric Blackwood held her by the waist and laid her down on the sofa.

The man’s body pressed down on hers.

The scent of alcohol mixed with the fruitiness of the soup washed over her...

「The next morning.」

Lawson arrived to make breakfast as usual.

She was carrying fresh ingredients and used her key to open the door.

The first thing she saw upon entering was clothing scattered across the living room floor—both men’s and women’s.

Lawson had never encountered a situation like this before and froze on the spot.

After standing dazed for a few seconds, she tiptoed toward the living room.

On the sofa, Alaric Blackwood and Sophie Shaw were asleep in each other’s arms.

A fluffy blanket was draped over them, but it wasn’t big enough to cover them completely. Their entangled legs were visible, poking out from under the edge.

’What a risqué scene.’

Lawson couldn’t help but feel her old cheeks flush bright red.

She debated whether she should head to the kitchen to make breakfast or pretend she hadn’t seen anything and leave...

’I can’t just leave!’

’I’ll get my pay docked if I’m absent.’

She glanced at the long-cold hangover soup on the coffee table and guessed that Alaric Blackwood must have drunk a lot last night. Why else would he be sleeping on the sofa?

She scratched her head, retreated to the entryway, put her shoes back on, and stepped outside. Then, pretending she had just arrived, she rang the doorbell.

The sound quickly startled Alaric Blackwood awake.

As he moved, Sophie woke up too.

Their eyes met. Realizing she was lying in Alaric Blackwood’s arms, held tightly by him, her cheeks flushed hot. She scrambled out of his embrace, climbed off the sofa, and frantically started gathering her clothes from the floor.

Quickly pulling on her base layer, she clutched her pants and jacket, slipped on her slippers, and hurried upstairs, scurrying back to her room.

Alaric Blackwood, for his part, put on his shirt and trousers, picked up his suit jacket from the floor to drape over his arm, and walked to the entryway to open the door.

When Lawson saw him, she gave a slight smile. "Sir, I’m so sorry. I forgot my keys when I left this morning."

He nodded without saying anything and let Lawson in.

After returning to his room for a shower, he got dressed and came back downstairs. He sat on the living room sofa and pulled up the security footage on his tablet.

The footage of Lawson entering a short while ago, standing dumbfounded before the sofa, and staring at him and Sophie was quite impactful.

He rubbed his brow in resignation, sensing an inconvenience.

Before, when he was alone, mornings were rushed as he had to get to the office. So, he had hired a housekeeper to cook for him, for convenience...

Now, it seemed, a housekeeper was no longer needed.