At 7 p.m., Vivienne was lounging in the living room, indulging in a slice of strawberry cheesecake, when Griffin's call came through.
His voice sounded muffled, as if he was speaking through cotton, "Vivienne..."
"Yeah, what's up?" she responded, her voice casual as she took a generous bite of her cheesecake.
There was a noticeable pause on Griffin's end before he took a deep breath. "Vivienne, how is she doing?"
"Who are you asking about?" Vivienne queried, feigning ignorance.
Griffin seemed to freeze for a moment, almost on the verge of breaking down. "Vivienne, please don't torture me like this. You know the situation with my family. I know I'm taking a gamble, but I just can't help feeling anxious..."
Vivienne set down her fork, her tone turning slightly stern, "If you've decided to gamble, then stick to your guns. Doubting yourself won't help."
After a moment of silence, Griffin softly replied, "I understand, Vivienne."
Percival emerged from the kitchen with ribs just as Vivienne hung up, her attention still partially on the half-eaten strawberry cheesecake.
He swiftly reclaimed the remaining half, meeting her protective gaze with a resigned, "Let's eat first."
Glancing at the confiscated cake, Vivienne reluctantly gave in, knowing all too well that only Mr. Wolf's strawberry cheesecake tasted that divine. The difference between having a cake every day and occasionally was clear to her.
During dinner, Vivienne casually asked, "Mr. Wolf, how long do you think Abigail can hold out?"
Percival served her some greens without hesitation, confidently stating, "Not much longer. The one in a hurry isn't us, it's her."
Vivienne nodded, discreetly topping her greens with a sweet and sour rib, only to catch Percival's watchful gaze, "No picking."
Vivienne, "..."
After dinner, as Percival cleaned up the kitchen, Vivienne headed for a shower.
Emerging to find him already in his robe, sitting on the bed, he patted the space beside him, "Come here."
Vivienne's heart skipped a beat, though her body willingly moved forward.
"Mr. Wolf..."
His deep, ink-like eyes met hers, making her throat dry, yet it was his feigned menace that made her gulp, "Afraid I'll devour you?"
It wasn't fear she felt, just concern that her back might not survive till the next day. She had come to realize that the post-marriage Mr. Wolf was like a forbidden charm unleashed, overwhelming at times.
Percival chuckled softly, pulling her down to sit, "Sit tight, I'll dry your hair."
Vivienne blinked in surprise.
Warm air flowed over her head as she relished Mr. Wolf's personal touch, thinking to herself how marriage indeed had its perks. He took care of everything, more attentively than her own mother.
As the lights went off, the immediate warmth of Percival's chest against her back, his arms encircling her, he sighed, "Time to sleep."
Vivienne, "..."
Just like that?
Percival, sensing her thoughts, tightened his grip around her waist, whispering, "Tomorrow we're visiting the Linklaters. I'd rather not have your dad chase me with a knife. We'll settle this score tomorrow night."
Vivienne was puzzled.
What did this have to do with her? Arthur's grudge against Mr. Wolf wasn't new.
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