Chapter147 – Feed me
Clarissa flushed crimson. “Let me go.”
“Um...”
Clarissa had no room for resistance at all.
“Stay with me, or... continue?”
"You shameless bastard!" She raised her hand to slap him, but he caught her wrist effortlessly and smirked.
Atticus rolled over, pulling Clarissa into his arms, his fingers gently stroking through her soft, damp hair.
“David just told me,” he murmured with a sly smile, “he only arranged a room for us.”
Clarissa froze. “What did you say?”
Her face went pale in an instant.
Atticus couldn’t hold back his laugh, low and wicked. “That’s right. You’ll be sleeping with me for the next two weeks. Might as well start getting used to it now.”
As he spoke, he lowered his head, aiming for her lips.
But this time, Clarissa was faster. Her hand flew up and pressed against his mouth, stopping him cold. “Don’t even think about it!”
Atticus chuckled deep in his throat, amused and thoroughly unbothered. He gently grasped her wrist, pulling her hand down, and pressed a soft kiss to her fingers.
“Are you mad?”
Clarissa glared at him, her large eyes blazing with fury. For a moment, she was speechless—too angry to form words.
Atticus raised a brow, a teasing grin tugging at his lips. “Really mad?”
Seeing that she wasn’t playing along, Atticus finally released her with a small laugh. He reached out and affectionately rubbed his forehead against hers.
“Alright, alright. Don’t be mad, I’m kidding,” he said lightly. “My room’s next door.”
Clarissa blinked in surprise.
Atticus tilted his head, watching her amusedly. “Sis? Clarissa?”
The second she snapped out of it, her expression changed. She lunged forward and pinched his ear hard, her voice sharp with anger. “You little brat! You’re dead this time!”
A moment later, Atticus found himself physically shoved out of the room, barefoot and shirtless.
He stood in the hallway, blinking, then knocked on the door. “Clarissa? Clarissa! Sister… come on, I was just joking. My clothes are still inside…”
There was a pause. Then the door creaked open.
Atticus’s eyes lit up—only for a bundle of clothes to smack him in the face, tossed by a pale, furious hand.
Bang!
The door slammed shut again before he could say another word.
He stood there blinking, clothes in hand, nearly kissing the door from how close it had gotten.
Just as he sighed and considered how to soften her mood again, David appeared quietly at his side.
“Sir, is there anything I can assist you with?”
Atticus turned to see the ever-composed butler standing nearby.
Unfazed, Atticus casually dusted off his shirt. “Could you bring me something to eat?”
“Certainly. Would you like it delivered to your room?”
“Yes, that’d be perfect.”
David gave a nod and left without another word, while Atticus made his way to the room next door, drew a hot bath, and changed into fresh clothes.
.......
Meanwhile, Clarissa was pacing inside her suite.
The room was spacious and soaked in old-world charm. Everything was styled in classic European luxury—the bed was a regal antique fit for royalty, and the walls were adorned with oil paintings centuries old, each worth more than a small fortune.
She wandered the room in quiet awe, her anger cooling in the comfort of the warm lighting and deep silence.
Eventually, she made her way to the marble-clad bathroom and sank into a steaming bath. When she finally stepped out wrapped in a soft robe, her body felt loose and light, the tension slowly melting from her limbs.
She had just begun walking toward the grand windows to peek outside the towering castle when a knock came at the door.
“Miss Clarissa, may I offer you some refreshments?” came David’s gentle voice.
Clarissa opened the door. Standing there, perfectly poised, David held a silver tray topped with a porcelain teapot and several delicate desserts—Earl Grey tea, lemon cakes, cream puffs, flaky pastries, and a small dish of thinly sliced ham.
Next to him, Atticus stood with that annoyingly charming smile of his. “Sis, I figured you’d be hungry. Thought I’d have David bring you something.”
Clarissa didn’t respond to him, but turned to David instead. “Thank you. These look wonderful.”
Before she could take the tray, Atticus reached out and smoothly intercepted it.
“Thank you, David. I’ll take it from here.”
David gave a short bow. “Of course. Enjoy your evening.”
After David handed it to Atticus, he turned around and left. He had told David in advance. All David had to do was get her to open the door.
Clarissa stared at Atticus, who stood in front of her looking innocent.
“You set this up again,” she said flatly.
“It’s not like that!” Atticus protested, his voice laced with mock indignation. “You haven’t eaten all afternoon, and dinner’s still three hours away. I was worried you’d be starving, so I asked David to bring some snacks.”
His face shifted into a pitiful expression—complete with wide, remorseful eyes. “Are you still mad about what happened earlier? I just... your sleeping face was too cute. I couldn’t help myself.”
Clarissa cut him off with a sigh, glancing down the corridor to make sure no one was watching. “Alright, alright. Come in already.”
Atticus slipped into the room quickly. He placed the silver tray on the table, then poured a steaming cup of tea with practiced ease.
“This is the castle owner’s private stash,” he said smoothly. “The kind of black tea regular guests never get to taste. Try it.”
Clarissa didn’t object. Earlier, when she first caught the scent from the tray in David’s hands, the rich, heady aroma of the tea had made her crave it.
Now, as the liquid flowed into the cup and its scent filled the room, her anticipation deepened.
She took a sip—then another.
Atticus watched her with interest. “Well?”
Clarissa set the cup down and nodded. “It’s amazing. You should try it too.”
But Atticus cut a few slices of cake and ham, setting the plate in front of her instead.
“I’ll wait a bit. You eat first—see if it suits your taste.”
Clarissa’s lips curled ever so slightly. She sampled each item on the tray with cautious curiosity. The ham, unexpectedly flavorful, was so good she ate three slices without realizing it.
When she finally glanced at Atticus again, he was eating the lemon cake in small, slow bites. Every movement was precise, almost elegant. After just three bites, he washed it down with tea.
“You don’t like it?” Clarissa asked.
“Too sweet.”
“Well, endure it. Dinner’s still hours away.”
Atticus set his fork down and leaned back. “I’ll be fine. I can wait.”
Clarissa glanced at him, then nudged the ham plate toward him. “Eat some of the ham. It’s really good.”
Atticus tilted his head, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Feed me.”
Clarissa flushed instantly. “You’re impossible!”
“If you don’t feed me,” he said with exaggerated drama, “then I won’t eat.”
She shot him a look full of disdain and scoffed. “Then starve.”
She picked up a piece of cake and popped it into her mouth, refusing to even glance in his direction.
But Atticus didn’t let it go. His expression turned heartbreakingly pitiful, his voice soft and aggrieved. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine… starving for three hours won’t kill me…”
Clarissa nearly choked on the bite she was chewing. She glared at him, flustered. “Can you not say stuff like that?”
Atticus stood slowly and turned toward the door. “Alright then. I’ll leave you to eat in peace.”
He took three deliberately slow steps.
“Stop!” Clarissa’s voice rang out behind him.
He paused mid-step and turned, eyes wide.
She was holding out a slice of ham. “Come here,” she muttered.
A boyish grin spread across his face. In two long strides, he was beside her again, sliding into the seat next to her and leaning in close.