Chapter 76 The Fear of Unwanted Affections
Charles Lancelot's gaze lingered on her increasingly flushed lips, his mouth was parched with desire.
Upon hearing her speak, he stepped closer, towering over her, his voice was like a husky whisper, "What did you say?"
"I said, I..."
Her words were abruptly silenced.
Charles's hand cradled the back of her head while the other encircled her waist, his movements were both tender and tantalizing.
In matters of affection, Daphne Murphy was never his equal. Each kiss left her unwittingly succumbing to his control, his allure akin to a demon fallen from grace, irresistibly addictive.
Only the remnants of her rational mind kept Daphne from getting further entangled in his embrace.
"Charles Lancelot!" With all her strength, she pushed him away.
His breath was ragged, his dark eyes clouded with a storm of emotions, his lips now glistening with a newfound wetness.
Daphne was embarrassed, then she glared at him, "How many times must I tell you not to kiss me with the same lips you've kissed Kayla Baker with? I fear catching Helicobacter pylori!"
Charles, initially furious, couldn't help but laugh at her unique concern.
Helicobacter pylori, indeed.
"I've only ever kissed you," he said with haughty indifference, his disheveled appearance betraying his usual restraint. "If you were to catch it, it would have been right after we got married."
"Get lost," Daphne spat back at him.
Seeing her blushing anger, Charles felt his mood lift, a smile curling on his lips that even he didn't notice.
He couldn't understand why Daphne so effortlessly stirred his deepest desires.
This feeling was unique to her alone.
Daphne, agitated, climbed the stairs. She calmed herself before quietly opening the door, not wanting to disturb Carla.
To her surprise, the room was lit.
"What's wrong?" Carla asked, sensing Daphne's off-kilter mood. "Who upset you?"
"No one," Daphne replied, her usual calm and reason returning, except when it came to Charles. "Did I wake you?"
"No," Carla answered briefly, then, out of curiosity, asked. "Is Charles Lancelot the husband you're divorcing with?"
Daphne confirmed with a nod.
"Who is his secret lover?"
"Kayla Baker."
"I've never heard of her," Carla confessed, but didn't dwell on it, instead probing further, "Can you really bear to divorce Charles Lancelot? He's many women's dream husband—handsome, wealthy, and well-built."
Carla wasn't one to follow every trending topic in the entertainment world.
"He is good-looking," Daphne admitted, a connoisseur of aesthetics, unwilling to downplay Charles's attractiveness. "Too bad he's a scoundrel."
Carla agreed.
No matter how handsome or wealthy, if his heart isn't yours, it's all pointless.
Daphne sat on the bed beside her, feeling a twinge of guilt, "I'm sorry for dragging you here so late, especially since you're pregnant. I didn’t think about that."
"That’s fine." Carla reassured her, genuinely considering her a friend. She was glad to be needed, feeling her presence had some value.
Daphne asked another question, "Have you gone for a pregnancy check? How's the baby?"
"It's all good," Carla replied, her voice tinged with tenderness and joy.
Reassured, Daphne turned off the light, and they both lay down, each lost in their thoughts as they entered the long night.
Later, Daphne fell sleep, undisturbed by dreams of Charles's kiss, while Carla lay awake with worries.
Downstairs, after Daphne had gone up, Charles called Mark Thompson, despite the late hour.
Being woken up at 3 AM would irritate anyone, including Mark.
"What can't wait until tomorrow? Why call at this hour?" Mark grumbled, groggy and irritable, "Just because you're the boss doesn't mean you're so great."
"Get up and take this call. There's an extra ten thousand in it for you this month as sleep compensation," Charles's deep voice came through the phone.
Mark perked up at the mention of money.
Ten thousand?!
He sat up quickly, putting on his glasses, and spoke in his usual tone, "Boss, what do you need?"
"I need you to look for someone."
"Who?"
"Fred." Charles said, his eyes darkening with thought.
He could search for his first love later, but Fred, the one Daphne cuddled in her sleep, the one she didn't like to embrace, had to be found immediately.
He wanted to see what kind of enchanting face and soft body made Daphne unable to forget him even after two years of marriage.
Mark was confused, "Just a name?"
"Related to Daphne Murphy, very close to her," Charles said, not willing to disclose the whole truth to Mark, "They're together almost every day."
Daphne?
Mark paused for a moment.
"Put aside less important tasks," Charles granted him the privilege, "No need to clean the toilets. Give me all information about Fred as fast as you can."
"Yes, sir." Mark said, relieved at the thought of skipping toilet cleaning.
Charles hung up, rubbing his phone. He thought about asking a hacker for help but didn't want them to know he was Charles Lancelot.
Friends don't ask for favors for everything.
After a moment, he messaged Edwin Smith in Gedser City, hoping he could find information since Daphne was from there.
Once done, Charles loosened his tie and collapsed on the sofa, trying to catch some sleep.
But his rest was not as peaceful as Daphne's.
He dreamt of a Daphne surrounded by men, each one handsome and charming, as she held Fred and said to him, "Charles Lancelot, you have Kayla Baker, and I have my little Fred and my first love."
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