Mr. Fairchild's Rose: She is Wild and Proud-Chapter 128: Who’s Knocking at the Door?

Maeve drank quickly, "It’s not bitter. Let’s head back to rest. It’s getting late."

Nina nodded.

The night was like silk.

When Maeve returned to her room, it was nearly ten o’clock. Whether it was due to the rain or the alcohol, she felt the aftereffects now—her eyelids grew heavy, her mind a bit foggy.

She quickly took a shower and collapsed onto the bed.

As drowsiness surged, she heard knocking at the door.

One knock after another, relentless as if the person wouldn’t stop until she opened.

Maeve groaned in annoyance, squeezing a word from her throat, "Who?"

"It’s me."

"Who are you?" Maeve asked, her eyes still closed, sitting on the bed.

There was silence, then a soft "beep"—the door opened.

Maeve instantly became alert, instinctively tightening the belt of her bathrobe.

This was no joke; she wasn’t wearing anything under the robe, how could the room card be in someone else’s hands?

Footsteps halted in front of her bedroom.

Maeve’s body tensed as she glanced around, finding nothing that could serve as a weapon. If it was someone suspicious, she’d have to rely on her fists.

The door swung open mercilessly.

Julian Fairchild stood at the door, holding a room card between his long fingers, evidently hers, "Why didn’t you bring the card inside?"

His broad shoulders and imposing figure were evident, the loose bathrobe hinting at his strong eight-pack abdomen, complemented by solid, muscular long legs—clearly the result of years of training.

Neither bulky nor gaunt.

Seeing it was Julian, Maeve allowed herself a sigh of relief, "Just leave it on the table."

With that, she could no longer resist exhaustion, pulling up the covers and collapsing into sleep.

From a man’s viewpoint, one could admire her alluring back and waistline, her long, slender legs exposed without a care.

She was tantalizing like an enchantress.

Maeve’s head swam with fatigue and she felt muddled earlier. With a slight shift in thought, she realized that only she and Julian occupied the twelfth floor. Julian surely wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

Besides, Miles had always been here.

She was still nominally his wife, though... not for much longer.

But still, no closing sound from the door.

Maeve felt her eyelids grow heavier, suddenly a coolness touched her bedding, followed promptly by powerful arms embracing her waist possessively.

A mix of piercing cold fragrance and strong alcohol smell snapped Maeve to awareness of who it was.

He bit at her delicate earlobe, his voice laced thick with desire, hoarse and terrifying, "You’re so trusting of me?"

Maeve immediately felt her body tingle, goosebumps rising.

Almost melting into his fiery embrace.

She wanted to resist, but could she really?

Furthermore, the initial agreement granted him control.

Her bathrobe couldn’t truly cover much; freshly bathed, with steam clinging to her skin like a ripe peach—moist, tender—with cheeks flushed just the right shade, her whole being was tender like an eggshell.

Just one glance from Julian had his breath unstable.

He turned Maeve in his embrace, now facing him. She mumbled, "No more, I’m so tired."

Clearly so tired she mistook the hotel for Crestfall Bay.

Julian placed a soothing kiss atop her head.

Today, Maeve had kissed him first, even if he knew it was all an act, he couldn’t suppress his urge.