Chapter 224: I Had a Wet Dream

So, was cheating their only secret? He should confess everything and stop playing the mystery man.

"But Susan," Oscar said bluntly, "marrying Manuel is the best decision she's ever made."

"Great minds think alike," Hannah nodded, surprised by her agreement. Oscar couldn't help but smile; it was exceedingly rare. This was going too far.

Hannah rolled her eyes. "I'm hungry. Let's go downstairs for dinner."

"Come help me up," Oscar said naturally.

Hannah considered ignoring him. She was still furious that he'd faked his injuries in the car accident, making her wait on him.

"I carried you back to the room today and pulled on my wound," he said.

"You dumb-ass! You could have woken me!" she snapped. She was angry at his recklessness.

"I couldn't bear to wake you. You were sleeping like a baby."

"You could have asked Jimmy to carry me."

"So, Hannah, you think any man can carry you, huh?"

"Gosh! What's your focus!" Hannah sputtered.

"Of course, it's you!"

Hannah felt her head spinning. He was constantly flirting, and so good at it! Only God knew how many women he'd charmed.

She got off the bed, angrily helping him to the couch. He leaned heavily on her shoulder as he stood. She silently complained at his weight.

They had dinner. They watched TV. They went to bed. It had become routine, almost natural.

The next morning, Hannah was surprised to find him gone. Oscar usually rose early only for important matters, but his injury should keep him home.

She pulled back the covers and went to the bathroom, assuming he'd left.

Instead, she found him pantless. She screamed, but he quickly covered her mouth.

She stared, aghast. Did he have no shame?

"Shh!" he hissed. "You're scaring me!"

The irony wasn't lost on her. He looked strange, almost sleepwalking—pantless, sleepwalking! What a mess!

He released her once she calmed down. "Bring me some underwear," he said.

"Why don't you get it yourself?" she grumbled, feeling like his maid. She'd married him for partnership, not servitude.

"I can, if you don't mind me walking around in my birthday suit…"

She fetched his underwear, annoyed and confused by his manipulative nature.

She entered the closet. He favored black boxers, with a few gray ones. Dark colors only. Oddly traditional for such a womanizer. She contrasted him with Charles, who wore brightly colored briefs—a stark difference.

She chose a pair at random and returned. He was calmly brushing his teeth, water staining his cheeks.

The sight of him pantless was still repulsive. She put down the underwear, then paused. Something felt off.

"Oscar, where's your other boxer?" she asked, sensing something amiss. She remembered him putting on a clean pair last night. Had he gone out again?

"Hannah," he looked at her, "tell me why a grown man gets up early to wash himself and discards his underwear?"

"How should I know?" she said, confused.

"Come here. Let me tell you."

"No way!" She sensed a trick.

"Then I'll come to you."

"Hey! Stop!" She was nervous.

He stood before her, looking down. She was too shy to meet his gaze. He bent closer, her heart pounding with each movement.

"...had a wet dream," he whispered, his voice soft, particularly on those last two words.

Crimson flooded Hannah's face. How could he tell her that? She turned to leave, refusing to stay in the room.

Leaving, she spotted the wet boxer in the bathroom trash. Nothing could be more disgusting.

She went to the next room to brush her teeth, composing herself before returning to get dressed for work.

He was changing, topless but now wearing pants. She turned to leave again.

"Button my shirt," he said abruptly.

Did he really consider her a maid?

"Only my girl gets that honor," he said, as if reading her mind.

"I don't want to be your girl."

"But I want you to be my girl."

Her heart pounded, but she fought against his charm. He was a damn playboy.

He grabbed her arm, her heart leaping again.

"My chest wound still hurts," he explained. He was dressed and ready to flirt, yet claiming pain?

She gritted her teeth, buttoning his shirt. He was tall, making her feel small. Her arm ached, but he seemed pleased, almost sweet.