Chapter 332 – Wet Dream
After that, he took a shower.
Nothing long. Just a quick rinse to get the sweat off, soothe the post-workout tension, and let the steam wash away the minor existential spiral of "am I now owned?"
The water was hot. Sharp. Smelled like his signature scent—black amber, citrus, and the faint, spicy undertone of infernal basil. He ran his fingers through his hair, let the droplets trace the lines of his back, then stepped out and towel-dried in mechanical efficiency.
Simple pants. White shirt. No tie. No blazer.
Spritz of cologne. Just one spray—luxury, subtle, made from something no mortal nose could place.
Not a date. Just breakfast.
He walked down the stairs barefoot, toes silent against the cool marble. The house was still mostly asleep. Shadows long. Air still. Servants only beginning their quiet rotations.
In the living room, he poured himself tea.
No coffee this time. Not because he didn't need it, but because the moment felt more like tea.
