Chapter 162 Dream and Illusion

The dream had lifted Cherise’s spirits and sparked hope, only to crumble into mere

illusion.

Using his finger, Damien raised her chin. “Mrs. Lenoir, was that inappropriate dream you. had there?”

Blushing at the dream memory, Cherise stammered, “N-no!”

“No?” The man chuckled and picked up the voice recorder from the table, pressing the play button.

“No, don’t…”

“Honey, stop kissing me.”

“There’s so much saliva, don’t kiss me…”

“No, I don’t mind your saliva, but stop kissing… I can’t catch my breath…”

The woman’s giggles echoed in the room.

Cherise’s face turned red as a beet, and she quickly wrapped herself in the blanket. “I didn’t say that!”

“It wasn’t me!”

How embarrassing! She couldn’t believe she had said those things in her dream.

Oh no, Damien isn’t going to let me live this down!

Damien smiled, gently pulling the blanket aside and pinning Cherise beneath him. “Mrs. Lenoir, let me

enlighten you. When a normal man hears these sounds from his wife in the early morning…”

“He won’t be able to resist.”

Cherise’s brain stalled for a second. “Resist what?”

The next moment, the man’s fiery lips pressed against hers. “You’ll replace out soon.”

“Umph!”

Eventually, Cherise was worn out by Damien before noon, feeling sore all over and with no desire to

leave the bed. And she was famished!

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She looked at Damien, who lay in bed listening to the news with a relaxed demeanor, and asked, “Are

you hungry?”

Damien raised an eyebrow slightly. “A bit.”

A bit?

Cherise rolled her eyes. She was physically spent, practically stuck to the bed, but he, who had been

doing all the work, claimed to be only ‘a bit’ hungry?

Monster!

She took a deep breath, slipped into her nightgown, and tried to get out of bed. Just as her feet were

about to hit the floor, Damien suggested, “Why don’t you ask Frances to bring your food up?”

He raised an eyebrow as he shifted to a more comfortable position and leaned against the bed. “You’re

the lady of the house; you don’t need to handle everything yourself.”

Cherise shook her head. “No, better not…”

Cherise hesitated, concerned that asking Frances to bring her food would give away what had

happened. Besides, it felt awkward and impolite to trouble the elderly maid.

Even with her resolve to get out of bed and manage her meal independently, her sore and, feeble legs

almost gave way, nearly sending her tumble forward.

Fortunately, she managed to grab onto the bed’s edge.

Damien couldn’t help but jest, “Looks like your legs have given up on you.”

With a resigned smile, he continued, “Instead of putting on a show for Mr. Hampson and. the whole

household as you scuttle around like a crab, why not have Frances come up? That way, only Frances

will be in the know, and the rest won’t.”

Cherise hesitated. While reluctant to admit it, she realized the wisdom in his words.

“Okay.”

She replied with a hint of disappointment and climbed back into bed.

Damien grabbed his phone, punched in a number swiftly, and tossed the phone her way. “Tell Frances

what you’re in the mood for.”

Cherise blushed like a tomato.

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“Mrs. Lenoir, what can I get you?”

Frances, a seasoned household staffer, instantly got what had happened and was happening.

Cherise bit her lip. “I’ll have pasta bolognese…

Looking sheepishly at Damien, she added, “Uh, for two, please…”

Downstairs, Frances was confused, and she thought.

What? For two??

“But, Mrs. Lenoir, I know Mr. Lenoir’s appetite well. Even if he’s famished, he wouldn’t need two

portions.”

Cherise’s hand holding the phone wavered momentarily, and her cheeks flushed. “Well, um… the two

portions are for me.”

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