Chapter 797

“You silly thing, how could that be called suffering? Taking care of my wife until I’m exhausted is a pleasure I’d never trade.” Dr. Ludwig’s voice was warm as he swept Ivy up into his arms, carrying her toward the living room–never breaking their kiss.

With two pieces of good news today, Ivy’s mood soared, and she found herself uncharacteristically bold, pressing closer to him as they moved.

Jamison, utterly captivated by her, had only intended to carry her to the living room couch. But in a flash of impulse, he changed direction and strode straight into the master bedroom with her in his arms.

“Dr. Ludwig, aren’t you going to shower first? You’re usually obsessed with cleanliness.”

Jamison paused, staring at Ivy’s playful grin for a moment before he relented. “Fine. Shower first.”

“But I’m starving. I haven’t had dinner yet.”

“Then which do you want first–dinner or a shower?” Jamison could see she was teasing him, but he indulged her with obvious affection.

Either way, he wasn’t escaping tonight.

“Let’s eat first. Dinner should be here any minute.”

Just as Ivy finished her sentence, her phone chimed–dinner had arrived.

The food was laid out: three dishes and a hearty soup. Ivy sat down and smiled, “Eat up. You’ll need your strength.”

Jamison watched her, puzzled. Something about Ivy’s mood tonight felt off, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. All he could do was keep his gaze fixed on her, searching her face as if she were the most fascinating thing on his plate.

Catching his intense stare, Ivy ducked her head, barely stifling a laugh. She couldn’t help but wonder how he’d react when he finally learned the truth.

“What’s so funny?” Jamison asked, curiosity piqued. “You’ve been acting strange ever since I got home–more affectionate than usual. What are you hiding from me?”

“You don’t like me being affectionate? Would you rather I froze you out and ignored you?” Ivy replied, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“No, thank you. I’m not a glutton for punishment.”

Ivy chuckled again but quickly composed herself, worried he might catch on. She shifted gears, adopting a serious tone. “By the way, I need to tell you something. Adkins was rushed to the hospital–critical condition. Baillie called and implied that if I had any conscience, I’d go visit…”

Jamison’s hand paused midair. He looked at her closely. “Are you going?”

Ivy shook her head. “No. There’s no point in fake concern. I asked Boyd to go instead, and I’m sending them fifty thousand in cash.”

Jamison nodded. “That’s probably for the best. Real money in hand is worth more than hollow sympathy. And it saves you the discomfort.”

Fifty thousand was hardly a blip for them.

“As long as you understand.”

“Of course I do. After everything the Windsor family’s done, they don’t deserve a shred of your loyalty. I’ve told you before–whatever you decide, I’ll always support you.”

Ivy had heard those words more times than she could count, but each time, they warmed her heart.

Thinking of how she’d have to string him along a bit longer, Ivy felt a pang of guilt.

If only the timing had been different–just a day later, even half a day.

After dinner, Ivy deliberately lingered, fussing over the dishes.

Jamison took a call from work, the conversation dragging on.

By the time he returned, Ivy was still in the kitchen. He lowered his voice. “You don’t need to clean up. The housekeeper will be here first thing tomorrow.”

The old manor’s housekeeper came by every morning–necessary with two cats and all that fur.

“This has to go out tonight,” Ivy said, lifting the bag. “If I leave the kitchen trash until tomorrow, it’ll stink.”

She grabbed the garbage and headed for the door. “I’ll be right back.”

There was no way Jamison would let her go outside alone at night. He intercepted her, taking the bag from her hands. “I’ll do it. It’s cold out.”

Ivy smiled and let him go without protest.

Left alone in the quiet house, she wandered aimlessly for a moment, unsure what to do. Snowy and Blackie, their two cats, circled her feet, meowing. She crouched down, stroking Blackie’s round head. “Poor guy–your master’s in for it tonight…”

Just then, the front door opened. Ivy looked up, startled. “That was fast–did you fly down the stairs?”

Jamison didn’t answer. He swapped his shoes and strode straight toward her, scooping her up from where she knelt on the floor with the cats.

“Ah!” Ivy yelped, instinctively wrapping her arms around his neck. “You scared me! What if you dropped me?”

Jamison didn’t bother to reply. His long strides carried them back to the master bedroom, then straight into the bathroom.

“Dinner’s done, now it’s time to shower. Together–it’ll save time.”

“No way.” Ivy squirmed in his arms. “We can’t shower together. Put me down!”

“What’s wrong now? You really think you can escape me tonight?”

He ignored her protests, setting her down in the shower. As he straightened, his warm hands cupped her face, and he bent to kiss her again.

All day, Ivy had played this scene over in her mind, her body aching for him like a desert desperate for rain. She didn’t pull away–if anything, she stood on tiptoe, stretching up to meet his kiss, hungry for more.

They clung to each other, arms tangled tight.

In an instant, the air in the bathroom was charged with heat.

But just as Jamison’s hands slid beneath her shirt, Ivy’s mind snapped back to reality. “Wait–no, we can’t…”

“Why not?” Jamison’s voice was low, the storm in his eyes barely contained.