Chapter 136
The screen stayed dark, not a single message lighting up the silence. When it finally buzzed, he grabbed his phone, hoping—just maybe—but it was only Wade tagging him in the group chat, sending a big thumbs up.
[Latham, is that a pro-level public display of affection or what p>
Usually, Latham would come up with something snarky and fire back. Tonight, though, the only person he wanted to hear from was still nothing but a quiet name in his chat list.
He bailed on his dinner plans and headed home early. As soon as he walked in, he asked, “Where’s Dorothea p>
Linda looked up, a little curious. “Latham, Dorothea hasn’t come back yet p>
He pressed his lips together. “Okay p>
Was he too blunt at the press conference again? Did he scare her off?
He shook his head, grabbed a towel, and started toward his room before changing his mind and heading to the next one.
Dorothea came home feeling more than a little guilty. She peeked into the living room first, half-expecting to see Latham sprawled on the couch, but he was nowhere in sight. She let out a tiny sigh of relief.
Linda saw her looking around and smiled. “Dorothea, are you looking for Latham? He’s gone upstairs to rest p>
Dorothea paused for a beat. She definitely was not looking for him. Not even a little.
She forced a smile. “Thanks, Linda. Got it p>
If he was resting, he’d be in the study or his bedroom. Trying to keep her steps quiet, she skipped the elevator and took the stairs up to the second floor. She reached for her bedroom door, but just as she turned the knob, she heard running water.
Steam was rising from behind the frosted glass of her bathroom door. Someone was in her shower.
Had she walked into the wrong room? She stepped back out and checked. No, it was definitely hers.
And whoever was in there… well, she didn’t need to guess.
The water stopped. Dorothea instinctively retreated a step, eyes fixed on the thick steam curling out into the room.
Latham was standing right in the
middle of it a towel hanging low and loose around his waist. Water
beaded on the ends of his black hair,
rolling down his neck, gliding along the sharp lines of his collarbone, and down the
tracing over his Crops
eut of his abs. The drops
disappeared into the shadow where
the towel clung to his hips.
He didn’t look even a little embarrassed. He pushed his wet hair back from his forehead, his eyes as calm and unreadable as ever.
“You’re back?” His voice was lower than usual, rough at the edges. “My showerhead broke, so I borrowed your bathroom. You don’t mind, do you p>
Dorothea stared at the wall and swallowed. What was she supposed to say? It was a little late to mind.
She cleared her throat. “Are you… finished p>
Latham stepped closer, bracing one hand on the doorframe. The towel slipped just a little, making his V-line stand out even more in the low light.
Dorothea’s throat went dry. She took another step back.
Latham noticed and gave her a hint of a smile, gone before she could be sure she’d seen it. “I’m done. Do you… want to shower now p>
His voice was teasing, full of suggestion, and heat flooded her cheeks.
She felt a spark of annoyance. “Latham, could you please show some respect p>
He let out a quiet laugh, his words
still soft with the steam from the et
shower I am showing respe
wasn’t, I wouldn’t bother With towel p>
Before she could find a reply, he
stepped past her, his long legs
carrying him out of the room. The bathroom door was left ajar, steam still swirling out just like the
warmth on her face.
For a moment, she stood there, suddenly unsure what this marriage-even if it was
just on paper—really meant for either of them.