A peaceful night passed, and because it was the weekend, Quentin stayed home. Instead of heading to the office, he spent the morning snuggled under the blankets with Amanda.
On the massive bed, Amanda sat perched on Quentin, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. She felt as though she were floating on the surface of a restless ocean.
"Are you tired yet?" his voice was deep and seductive, his throat bobbing as he teased her.
Amanda gasped, her small hand moving to his neck to touch him gently. Her eyes were hazy and wet, looking at him with a soft, aggrieved pout. "Quentin..."
Quentin couldn't resist such a look. He gently pinned her beneath him, reaching out to wipe a bead of sweat from her forehead. "Are you still going to be stubborn?"
Earlier that morning, she had been surprisingly bold. Even though he had started it, she had insisted on being on top. He had gritted his teeth and indulged her, letting her torment him until he finally surrendered. Now, she was exhausted and acting like a pampered baby. He wanted to scold her for her recklessness, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.
Amanda pouted, tightening her hold on his neck as her silent answer. As she leaned in to kiss him again, Quentin gave in, beginning his "attack" anew.
Minutes later, Amanda was breathing heavily, but Quentin had no intention of letting her go. He restrained her gently, kissing the sensitive spots he knew drove her wild. Wrapping her legs around his waist, he let his hands roam freely. He had to let her know that fire—especially the fire of love—wasn't something to be played with lightly.
For a long while, the only sounds in the room were the rustle of sheets and Amanda's soft, breathless moans.
The two upstairs were so passionately entangled that they had no idea two guests were already waiting downstairs.
Butler Wayne felt a wave of embarrassment as he brought out a second round of tea. "Mr. Kent, Winter... please forgive the delay. Since it's the weekend, the Master and Madam are sleeping in a bit later than usual."
Quentin had given strict orders: no one was to go upstairs without his permission, servants included. Wayne could do nothing but try his best to entertain the guests.
Winter, who had visited the villa many times, was quite friendly with the butler. She gave him a reassuring smile. "It's okay, Mr. Wayne. I'm sure they'll be down shortly."
Derrick sat opposite them, watching the exchange. He curled his lips into a smirk, took a sip of tea, and remarked dryly, "It's no surprise. It took Quentin a long time to get married; it's only natural he'd struggle to let her out of his sight."
Wayne's smile twitched. Mr. Kent was certainly... frank.
Winter immediately lowered her head. Working in the industry, she'd heard plenty of suggestive talk, so she understood exactly what Derrick was implying. Since it was nearly noon and Amanda still hadn't appeared, Winter's mind was definitely wandering toward "impure" thoughts.
"I'll take my leave. I have work to finish before the Master wakes," Wayne said, bowing out. He was just the housekeeper and knew when to make an exit.
Derrick waved him away, his eyes shifting to Winter. Though she kept her head down, he noticed her ears were turning a deep shade of pink.
"Good to see you again," he said.
Winter, being addressed for the first time in an hour, looked up and nodded politely. "Yes. Hello, sir."
Derrick leaned his head on his hand, a ghost of a smile on his face. "I didn't catch your name last time. I'm Derrick."
"I'm Winter."
Didn't Mr. Wayne just say my name? Winter wondered. Does he have a memory problem?
Derrick nodded, ignoring her suspicious look. "I know they call you Winter. I'm asking for your real name."
Winter frowned, reluctant to share it. "Carmen."
Derrick smiled broadly. "I see. Little Cam."
"It's Winter!" she corrected him immediately.
"Why are you so stubborn about it? Who gave you the name Winter, anyway?"
"I..."
Derrick found himself becoming addicted to the way the little girl got flustered under his teasing. Seeing her face turn sour as she struggled for words actually dissipated the frustration he felt from waiting so long.
Winter saw the amusement in his eyes and felt a wave of self-pity. She twisted her fingers together, looking down at her lap. Amanda had given her the name Winter, and now this man was making fun of it. She didn't like him at all. Why won't Ms. Amanda come down?
Derrick noticed her looking dejected and worried he'd pushed her to the point of tears. Just as he was about to offer a rare word of comfort, footsteps sounded at the top of the stairs.
Amanda, who had been smiling, felt her feet tremble the moment she saw Derrick. When she spotted Winter sitting in the corner with her head bowed, she nearly tripped.
Quentin caught her quickly, thinking she was still physically drained. "Are you going to provoke me next time?" he whispered teasingly.
Amanda shook her head vigorously, then practically sprinted toward the living room. "Winter, come with me!"
She didn't want to spend a single second with Derrick. Winter's head snapped up at the sound of Amanda's voice; she beamed and scrambled to her feet without a word.
Derrick's eyes narrowed as he watched Winter flee. Amanda took a deep breath, thankful that Quentin had stepped in to block Derrick's path.
"What are you doing here?" Quentin asked.
Derrick withdrew his gaze from the girls, meeting the clear threat in Quentin's eyes with a smirk. He waved the documents in his hand. "I went to your office, but I heard you took the day off to stay home and 'hug' your beautiful wife."
Quentin's expression remained perfectly calm, but Amanda wasn't so composed. Embarrassed to her core, she grabbed Winter's hand and hurried away before she could hear another word.