His Majesty’s Devious Sins - Chapter 226

The next morning, Lydia woke up alone and confused. She was snuggled into the blankets, as usual, one hand under the pillow, with her face buried into it. But there wasn’t a block of ice that she expected to be hugging. Raising her head, she glanced around with a frown.

“So much for staying,” Lydia muttered, sitting up and looking at her nightstand, seeing not even a single note behind.

Lydia swung her legs out of the bed and threw the blankets back, knowing she had a full day of work today.

“Oh lord,” Lydia said upon noticing the bruises around her upper t.h.i.g.hs where he had grabbed her the most. She weakly got out of bed and began preparing for the day, brushing her teeth and taking a shower.

Lydia stepped out of the shower and nearly screamed bloody murder at the sight of a man in her room. Weston had walked back into her bedroom, fully clothed. She gulped and looked at him with surprise.

“I thought you left,” Lydia said, her heart still racing from adrenaline.

Weston turned around and raised a brow, his eyes lazily taking everything in, lingering on specific areas that he liked.

“I made you breakfast,” Weston slowly said. “It was a chore. There was almost nothing in your fridge except sauce. How long have you lived here for?”

Lydia blinked as she shakily walked into her large closet, hoping to hide herself in here. He had seen her n.a.k.e.d, but she was still modest.

“A few years, why?” she called back, realizing there was a savory scent in the air.

“A few years and your kitchen is unused?” Weston responded. He walked to the door of her walk-in closet quietly, and smirked. She had her back turned to him and was quickly getting dressed.

Weston didn’t realize it sooner but she wore granny p.a.n.t.i.e.s. The realization nearly made him laugh. He expected her to be the meticulous type to pair her lacey bra with lacey u.n.d.e.r.w.e.a.r. Leaning against the door, he crossed his arms and observed her get dressed.

“I don’t like to cook,” Lydia said, completely oblivious that he was behind her. She clasped on a bra and turned around, her heart in her lungs.

“What are you doing?!” Lydia hissed, shoving him out the door and closing it. He was bound to give her a heart attack, and she was only twenty-one this year!

Lydia quickly grabbed bright yellow dress pants with a matching color top and then put on a white blazer. Her fingers were shaking the entire time she zipped on her pants. When she finished getting dressed, she poked her head out of the door and noticed he was gone.

“Weston?” Lydia called out, stepping out to her living room. In the far end of her condo, she saw him by the kitchen again, unlidding something. She didn’t know she had pots and pans.

“I brought this cookware from my penthouse,” Weston wryly said. “And ordered ingredients to be delivered, since you obviously lack what it takes to be a housewife.”

“Maybe you can be the househusband and I’ll support you for the rest of my life,” Lydia snorted, walking to the dining table where she frequently ate take out, or mainly dined out.

“I’m certain I’m worth more than you, so it should be the other way around,” Weston said with two plates in his hand. He placed one down in front of her, watching as her eyes lit up with childlike wonder.

“This looks so good!” Lydia gushed at the sight of the healthy and balanced meal. On the plate was freshly made salad with toasted sourdough bread that had bacon jam and scrambled eggs topped with freshly chopped dill. He placed more food down, catching her by surprise.

“I see you like to eat,” Weston mused as he settled freshly squeezed orange juice in front of her, as well as the fruit salad he made earlier. He placed a white pill on top of a piece of napkin and slid it towards her.

“We didn’t use protection. This is the morning after pill, take it,” Weston instructed her.

Lydia didn’t hesitate to put the pill in her mouth and down it with orange juice.

“If you were a woman, I’d ask you to be my wife,” Lydia said. It had been a while since she last had breakfast in her own house. He put the finishing touches down. She took a waft of the cold brew coffee, completely black.

“Don’t tell me you know my coffee type as well,” Lydia dryly commented, taking a sip of the iced coffee, staring at him with accusation. It had three sugar and no milk, just how she liked it.

“I have my ways,” Weston responded, putting the utensils down for her. “Now eat.”

Lydia didn’t need to be told twice. Unlike her good friend, she loved food with a burning passion, thus, she immediately began her meal with no qualms.

“You know,” Lydia slowly said as she bit into the toast, nearly m.o.a.ning at how good it was. “I could get used to this.”

Lydia chewed her food and glanced at him, referring to having a date, a night of p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e, and waking up to good food.

Weston didn’t see it that way. He thought he heard her wanting more than a relationship, thus, his lips tugged into a wary smile.

“You want us to live together a day after declaring our relationship?” Weston asked, rubbing his thumb on the corner of her mouth, catching a piece of bacon jam.

Lydia shook her head. “No, no. I just want you to take me out on a nice date, then f.u.c.k me hard, and treat me well afterward.”

Weston had never met someone so shy yet bold at the same time. She’d hide her body from him, but utter audacious words. He let out a small laugh. What an intriguing woman.

“That, I can certainly do,” Weston said, taking a sip of the orange juice. “Why don’t we add another agenda onto that list?”

“Like?” Lydia asked.

“Another f.u.c.k session,” Weston calmly said.

Lydia nervously glanced, looking into his eyes, wishing it was a joke, but knew it wasn’t. He was staring directly at her, his gaze calm but his fingers were pale from tightly holding the glass cup.

“I have work,” Lydia slowly said. “You should’ve done it at midnight.”

Weston raised a brow. “Is that an offer, Claymore?”

Lydia coughed and looked away. “Maybe it is, Fitzcharles.”

Weston’s eyes flashed with approval. If that was how she wanted to act, then he’d certainly keep the promise in mind.

“Another date tonight, then,” Weston slowly said, his lips curling into a smirk. “There’s a movie premier in the next city over. I’ll take you.”

Lydia smiled. It was her time to shine. “Alright, prepare yourself for my private jet then.”

Weston raised a brow, clearly not liking her challenge to one-up him. “No need, we’ll be taking mine. It’s bigger.”

Lydia felt like he meant something else. “I can have mine ready by tonight.”

Weston softly chuckled, whilst pushing the bowl of fruits in her direction. “My jet will be c.o.c.ked and loaded within the next hour.”

“Now that just sounds wrong,” Lydia mumbled, taking a bite of the fruit, capturing the dripping juices with her tongue.

Weston stared at her soft lips, his grip tightening on his fork. Was this breakfast or seduction? The sight of her enjoying his food made him want to enjoy a meal on her.

“It only sounds wrong because you have a dirty mind,” Weston said, his voice growing rougher and gruffer. Before he could respond, his phone began to ring.

Weston pulled out his phone to see it was Easton, most likely inquiring about the empty bedroom in the castle. Prior to Lydia, Weston owned many estates, but he frequented the castle more often, thus stayed there. This was one of the rare nights he was out of the castle.

“I’ll hold you to that movie date,” Weston said, standing up and sliding the phone back into his pocket. “Dress however you please, we’ll be using my jet anyways.”

Lydia narrowed her eyes at him. “What’s the color of your jet, so I can look for it?”

Weston briefly glanced at her. Before he could properly decipher her words, his phone began to ring again.

“Black,” Weston responded, as he turned to pick up his phone.

Lydia held back a cunning smirk. In that case, she’ll ban the landing of every black private jet on the runway in the airport. She had her connections, one he’d never anticipate.

Thus, Lydia sat back and enjoyed her fruit.

“No, it’s not a one-night stand,” Weston snapped into the phone. “I’ll be back in the castle soon.”

Lydia was surprised by his words and glanced at him, wondering if it was the King.

“You can manage another hour without me, Easton. Stop whining, I knew Minerva is into women since day one!” Weston hissed, turning to Lydia. He bent down to kiss her on the cheek and began walking out of the door, ignoring her stiff expression.

Lydia didn’t think they were in the basis of goodbye kisses, but she swooned regardless, touching the spot his lips touched.

Weston pressed his phone into his c.h.e.s.t and flashed her a slight smile. “I’ll see you later, my little fireball,” he said before opening and closing the door behind him.

“See you later,” Lydia mumbled, realizing she didn’t have a nickname for him. What should she call him?