Chapter 865 Lingering Scent

At 4:30 pm, Emelie stepped out of Sunnington Hill, nearly two hours behind when she initially planned to leave.She had already informed Jodie and the driver of the delay.

As she walked through the gates, her expression was a mask of cold indifference, her demeanor utterly devoid of emotions.Text © 2024 .

Jodie held open the car door, and Emelie slid into the back seat. She said, "Let's go."

There was no sign of any lingering recklessness from her time with William after dinner.

Her back ached even more than before, and her legs felt heavy and numb. Her inner thighs were especially sore from chafing, which was caused by irritation from William's hair brushing against her skin.

Maybe it had been too long since she'd felt this way. After all, women have needs as well.

Perhaps it was William's almost over-the-top attentiveness that made the difference. He had prioritized her pleasure, bringing her to climax twice before even thinking about his own satisfaction. The discomfort he felt from his own swelling was a stark contrast to the attentiveness that he'd shown her.

No matter if it was through last night's fog or the glaring light of the afternoon, both experiences had been undeniably satisfying.

Her only complaint was the deep bite mark that he'd left on her shoulder when he reluctantly realized she was truly leaving. As she moved, the fabric against the bite itched uncomfortably, and she absentmindedly scratched it. She glanced at Jodie. "Did they catch Beathan?"

"...He got away again," Jodie said.

Emelie laughed softly, "He can still run? How did he manage that?"

"It's odd," Jodie replied, her voice steady. "A group of people suddenly appeared and took him away from our team."

Emelie's brow furrowed. "Not the big shots?"

"I don't think so." Jodie glanced at the bite mark on Emelie's neck, pausing briefly before continuing. "The big shots want Beathan dead, and he knows it. But when that group showed up, he actually ran toward them. He must have known that they were there to rescue him."

Emelie frowned, deep in thought. "At this point, who would still want to save him...?"

Emelie, the mistress of Sunnington Hill, had departed. Only her lingering scent that filled the room was left. William considered turning off the air ventilation system to preserve the faint trace of her fragrance.

He bent down to pick up the dark green bathrobe that had fallen by the bed, bringing it to his nose for a gentle sniff. The robe still carried Emelie's scent from when she had worn it during their meal.

William had just showered and was not yet dressed, so he decided to put on the robe and head downstairs for a drink of water.

He reflected on last night and just now, he felt an unexpected sense of peace, as if he had no regrets. He gave himself a bitter smile.

Suddenly, his phone rang. He checked the screen, and he saw that it was one of his subordinates.

"Mr. Middleton, the person has been rescued," his subordinate said.

William's voice was cold as he replied, "Tell him to hand over the person. I can guarantee that he'll be sent abroad, as promised. But if he tries any tricks, I'll turn him over to the people that he fears most."

"Yes, sir," his subordinate replied.

Time can feel fast when it flies by. However, it can also feel slow when it drags on. A month could slip by in a heartbeat, yet a single week could stretch on like an endless road.

Beathan's whereabouts remained a mystery. Meanwhile, Emelie found herself buried under an increasing workload. The last two nights, she'd stayed late at the office as she felt an unusual weariness set in.

Her eyes were aching from too much screen time, so she reached for some menthol ointment, dabbing it on her temples.

As she closed her eyes to rest, her phone on the desk buzzed.

She looked over and saw that it was Wesley, someone she hadn't heard from in several days.