Chapter 669 Oliver, I'm Feeling Unwell
Natalie grimaced as she finished her glass of milk, silently cursing Oliver several times in her mind. ‘What was going through his head when he'd suddenly feed her with his mouth? It was so bizarre!’
She called a maid to take away the glass and started to feel a bit warm. She checked the thermostat; it read 26 degrees, not particularly high and it was on a quite comfortable temperature.
Looking down at her silk nightgown, the lightest she had, she still opted to lower the temperature a bit more.
Meanwhile, in the bathroom...
Oliver's shower and hair washing routine was swift. He seldom used to blow-dry his hair, finding it a hassle, but he picked up the habit after being with Natalie. He did not wanting to drip on her and make her cold.
Stepping out of the bathroom and tousling his hair with his fingers, he noticed the air felt exceptionally cool. To him, the chilly air was nothing to fuss over, but he knew Natalie didn't take well to the cold; in summer, she was comfortable with temperatures no lower than 25 degrees. But now...
He walked over to the wall-mounted control panel. It displayed a temperature of 19 degrees.
"Natalie." His call was preempted by the sight before him, freezing him in place. Her clothes were askew as if half-torn or, more accurately, as if she had attempted to remove them herself. Her body was sprawled unevenly on the bed, her head rubbing against it occasionally, as if in discomfort.
The black sheets contrasted with her pale skin, flushed red, an epitome of allure.
Something was not right. Oliver's brows furrowed, and he hurried over. "Natalie?"
She let out a faint whimper through her breath, delicate and tender, conjuring the notion of a 'place of comfort and pleasure'.
Oliver stood by the bed, bending over to touch her forehead, worried she might have a fever. She was hot, yet it didn't seem like the kind of heat from a fever.
As he pondered, the woman on the bed wrapped around him like an eel, arms around his neck and legs encircling his waist before falling weakly back onto the bed, clinging pitifully to Oliver.
He looked down, meeting her pleading eyes, and felt a twitch in his eyelid. "Natalie, what did you have?" Oliver scooped her up, preventing her from collapsing back down.
Natalie found his embrace soothing, her hand hooking around his neck while the other slipped inside the collar of his bathrobe...
Oliver gasped sharply, restraining himself as he asked again with a stern voice, "Natalie, what have you eaten?"
"I, I didn't eat anything," Natalie replied with great distress. "Oliver, I'm so hot, and I feel terrible..."
Oliver, who already had no immunity to Natalie's advances, found himself feeling worse than her as soon as she showed even a slight initiative.
However, at this moment, he needed to figure out what caused her change. It was apparent that she was drugged.
This was the Rosewood Estate, his domain. After the last staff overhaul, no one dared undermine him, except for that disrespectful old lady.
Oliver frowned in annoyance; it made sense now. The old lady had the guts and the idle time to meddle. No wonder she had bizarrely offered a glass of milk earlier.
"Husband..." The woman clinging to him spoke up.
At her call, Oliver's heart softened, "Hmm?"
"I want..." her voice trailed off.
Oliver's brows rose again as he tightened his grip on Natalie's waist, only to see her wince in pain, which made him quickly realize and loosen his hold. "What do you want?" Oliver leaned down, looking intently into her eyes, coaxing an answer.
Natalie looked at him, blinked, and her lips parted, but no sound came out.
Oliver knew she was still conservatively minded and too proper to say what she wanted out loud. But he wanted her to say it.
Some things, no man would tire of hearing. "Say it, what do you want? Baby, I need to hear you say it."
"You already know!" Natalie frowned in discomfort. Though somewhat clear-headed now, she only realized what had happened because she had been defenseless in the Rosewood Estate.
"I don't know. When I say I don't know, it means I don't," Oliver replied with a face that read, "I'm being stubborn, what can you do about it?"
Natalie was close to crying out of frustration by his shamelessness.
"Come on, Natalie, say it. There's nothing to be ashamed of; I love hearing it," Oliver encouraged gently.
Feeling too miserable and mentally cursing Oliver a hundred times, Natalie conceded, "I want you!"
A satisfied smile spread across Oliver's face, and he gave her a kiss, "As you wish, my darling."
Soon after, Natalie had no idea when she had fallen asleep or how she had even drifted off, let alone where she had collapsed into slumber.
The following day, Natalie woke up feeling sore all over, utterly exhausted. A glance at the clock showed it was nearly ten o'clock, which was seriously out of sync with her biological clock.
The spot beside her that belonged to Oliver was no longer warm, indicating he had left some time ago. And lately, Natalie had been swamped because her company had taken on several big projects that required her oversight.
On top of that, it seemed Oliver was busy with some acquisition or investment, though Natalie wasn't clear on the details; she didn't inquire about Oliver's work.
Soon after, there was a gentle knocking at the door. Worried it might be old Mrs. Windsor and not having time to change her clothes, Natalie quickly ran her fingers through her hair to look presentable and opened the door to find the maid, letting out a sigh of relief in the process.
"Ma'am, here is some lavender essential oil to help with the fatigue. The Mister specifically asked me to give this to you after you woke up so you could take a bath," the maid said, carrying a tray with a bottle of sparkling purple oil.
Natalie thanked her and took the oil, then asked, "Where's grandma?"
"The old lady has gone to meet friends for tea at the clubhouse. She said you needn't worry about her, to just... pretend she's not there,” the maid relayed.
In other words, Natalie had the liberty to sleep in even later if she wished. "How did you know when I would wake up?" Natalie asked, finding the timing of the maid's arrival a bit too coincidental.
The maid smiled, "The Mister guessed you might wake around ten. He told me to knock at that time, softly, so if you were awake, you'd hear me, but if not, I wouldn't disturb you."
The smile on the maid's face grew wider, "The Mister really knows you well, even guessing when you would wake up. He's so good to you!"
Natalie gave a dry laugh.
She suddenly remembered that there had been a faint light of dawn filtering through the window before she fell asleep. It was madness, Oliver had kept her up all night, and waking at ten was on the conservative side, to say the least!
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