Chapter 990: A “Troublesome” Kid

The car arrived at Oscar's heavily guarded castle. This was, undoubtedly, the least likely place for Besse to be disturbed; it was precisely why she'd agreed to stay. She acknowledged her boldness; Northfield Commander's home wasn't easily accessible to ordinary people. Nevertheless, she resolved to make the best of it.

"Commander," Max greeted Oscar in the hall. He looked surprised to see Besse.

"Max, please arrange a room for Miss Besse," Oscar instructed respectfully.

"Yes, sir," Max replied, leaving the hall.

"Please sit," Oscar said, guiding Besse to a sofa. She sat as he settled on another, some distance away. Besse frowned slightly but remained silent. Oscar's careful distance, perhaps stemming from her previous rejection, suited her.

He switched on the television, placing the remote before her. "Choose a channel. I'll change my clothes."

"Thank you," she smiled politely.

Oscar and Salem left, showing no emotion. Besse, reading the news on her phone, found the coverage chaotic but devoid of any mention of Oscar or their earlier airport encounter. Clearly, Oscar hadn't intended any publicity, nor had the media dared to speculate.

Oscar only calmed once in his room. He'd been nervous since Besse accepted his suggestion, fearing a sudden change of heart. The journey from the hotel to the castle felt agonizingly long, filled with worry, fear, and anxiety, despite her unwavering resolve.

"Dad?" Salem's surprise was evident at Oscar's unusual stillness. He'd always seen his father calm and confident on television, never this lost.

Oscar snapped out of his reverie. "Go shower," he instructed.

"Now?" Salem questioned.

"We're sweaty and dirty," Oscar explained.

Salem sniffed his clothes. "I don't smell anything."

"Just do it," Oscar insisted.

"Okay," Salem obeyed. "I'll go to my room."

"I'll come with you," Oscar added.

Salem was surprised; he'd always been bathed by Max. Oscar, however, didn't give him time to reconsider, proceeding directly to the bathroom.

Flattered and surprised, Salem followed. They showered quickly, the haste unusual to Salem.

Oscar roughly dried Salem's hair before he changed into fresh clothes. Back in the living room, Besse noticed Salem heading her way and chuckled. His hair resembled a dandelion, a stark contrast to his usual neat appearance.

"You showered?" Besse asked, giggling.

"Dad said I was dirty," Salem replied, frustrated.

"He must be a germophobe," Besse commented, laughing.

"Germophobe?"

Besse explained the term.

"Not really," Salem countered. Besse was surprised.

"He sometimes comes home drunk, reeking of alcohol, and goes straight to bed," Salem revealed. "Sometimes, even sober, he goes to bed without changing. Uncle Theodore said he once went three days without showering or washing his hair."

Besse laughed again.

Oscar entered, overhearing Salem's description. He coughed nervously as Salem, startled, realized he'd upset his father.

Oscar cleared his throat, feigning nonchalance. "I'm tired after work. I'll shower later. The three-day incident was due to overtime; I cleaned myself immediately upon returning."

Besse dismissed it, but Oscar's earnest explanation embarrassed him. She turned to Salem. "Salem, let me fix your hair."

He readily complied, a surprising willingness. Besse noted the pleasant scent of his body wash. "You smell good."

"Really?" Salem sniffed himself. "I used Dad's."

"It smells great," Besse approved, gently styling his hair.

Oscar watched, captivated by Besse's gentle tenderness towards Salem – a sight entirely new to him.