Chapter 45
“There’s still plenty of time. One month.”
Paiki swept his hand over her b******s and sat her on his knee.
Only about 30 days had passed?
Aniella was surprised because, by her own count, it felt like around 50 days had passed. Then again, it was just a rough estimate, so an error wasn’t surprising, though a 20-day difference seemed a bit large.
“Are you asking because you want to go home?”
“No, not necessarily. I was wondering… were there any letters, perhaps from my mother or sisters? Anything like that?”
“There weren’t any.”
“Not even replies to the letters I sent?”
“Nope.”
Aniella muttered “I see,” bitterly. Even if less time had passed than she thought, it was still a month. It was plenty of time for someone to wonder about her well-being. It was disappointing to realize no one cared enough.
Were they not worried at all? Were they too busy, or had something happened, that they couldn’t even spare a thought for her?
Aniella’s expression darkened.
“Do you want to send another letter? I’ll have it delivered.”
Paiki said, tucking her hair behind her ear. His voice was quite affectionate, but the smile on his lips was strangely twisted as he hid his ulterior motives.
In the Duke’s office, Paiki watched as the butler set down the tea and quietly withdrew, lost in thought.
Until now, Aniella hadn’t worked and had only repeated a cycle of eating and sleeping. That was according to his plan. That is, until the day she started diligently painting.
If it were just a brief doodle out of boredom, it wouldn’t matter. If she grew tired of scribbling and threw her sketchbook aside, that would be clear proof of her indolence. But painting all day, not even taking naps, and wandering around the forest to draw was the opposite behavior.
He wasn’t the type to enjoy it when plans went awry. The proper course was to take her pastels and sketchbook away and order her to laze around in bed during the time she spent painting.
Imposing his will using his status and power—that was the way of the man called Duke Paiki. It inevitably invited much opposition, but so what? The insubordination of small fries didn’t hurt or itch.
Aniella was no different. Her sullenness and avoidance of eye contact were the extent of her rebellion. Yet, he found himself unwilling to take the sketchbook from her.
‘What does it matter if that woman is heartbroken or not?’
He heard the voice of reason telling him to just take it, but his body refused. On top of that, he had even shown her the sunset. All that complicated calculation was giving him a headache.
He felt a sense of futility, wondering why he was doing this for her. It might be different if she were some prized goldenfish emperor. But she was nobody. Not his lover, not his wife. She was just, just Aniella Mullier.
He wouldn’t do this kind of thing again, not just for some temporary, pitiful woman he was sheltering. Just as his heart was blackening with negative thoughts, she spoke.
‘Thank you.’
It was a sensation of sudden brightness in his seemingly blackening heart. It felt as if someone had lit a bonfire, making it so warm that he became obsessed with the thought of kissing her.
Now that he thought about it, he had forgotten about it for a while. Paiki had embraced her, thinking that once he had her once, his accumulated s****l frustration would be resolved.
Contrary to his expectations, his other self knew no satisfaction. Even after going at it until exhausted, the moment Aniella squirmed shyly in his arms, it stood up again. He wanted to be physically close to her every day. When she cried out that it was too much, if he didn’t soothe her, hold her, and smell her skin, it was hard to bear.
Paiki glanced at the calendar on his desk. It had already been nearly three months since he brought Aniella here.
The promised two months had long passed. This was also not part of the plan.
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