CHAPTER 90: THE UNINVITED GUESTS AT THE TEA PARTY

After meeting the director that morning, Lyra hurried home as soon as her shift ended, eager to enjoy her day off.

Rowan, however, was caught in a meeting that stretched late into the day and didn’t make it home until after she had arrived. They were set to leave for the Pierce estate later that evening.

"You’re home." Lyra sat up quickly, drawn to the sound of the door easing open.

She slipped off the bed and stood as Rowan came in, her robe falling softly around her curves.

Her body ached for release, and she longed for nothing more than the warmth of his touch to melt away the tension.

"Not ready yet?" Rowan asked, glancing at his watch.

She opened her arms and looped them around his neck, pressing her body to his as she rose onto her tiptoes.

Their faces hovered inches apart, teasing him before she brushed a quick kiss against his lips.

Rowan’s gaze darkened.

"What are you up to?" he asked, feeling his heart quicken.

She should have been ready by now, yet here she was, still in her robe, her teasing movements stoking his desire.

Lyra tugged at his tie, loosening it, and undid just the top two buttons of his shirt before letting her palm brush over his chest.

Her eyes lifted to meet his as she asked softly, "Can I have you before we go?"

A flush of warmth spread from her neck to her ears as she dared to make the bold request.

He leaned closer, his breath hot against her ear.

"If you ask like this... how can I possibly say no?"

Her hands crept to the back of his neck, pulling him into a heated kiss. Rowan wrapped his arms around her and scooped her up, heading for the bed.

Gently, he laid her down, their kiss deepening, tongues teasing.

Her hands traced over him, slipping over buttons and fabric as she began to undress him.

"You’ve become quite the expert at this," Rowan teased, slowly unbuckling his belt.

Her robe slipped to the floor as he shrugged out of his shirt, and the distance between them disappeared. They slid beneath the blankets together, soft cries lingering at first before melting into the night.

Moments later, their breaths tangled and broke, and Rowan buried a low groan against her as they clung to each other. When it was over, their bodies collapsed together, breaths heavy and uneven.

By the time they arrived at the Pierce estate, Lyra had already fallen asleep in the car.

Albert and Monica exchanged surprised glances as Rowan carried her into the mansion and headed straight for their room.

He gently laid her on the bed, then stepped back and quietly left her to sleep soundly.

His parents stood at the door, their faces concerned.

"Did she overwork herself today?" Albert asked.

Rowan’s ears tinged pink as he replied, "Yes... it was a really hard day."

"Oh, poor thing," Monica murmured, pressing a hand to her chest, pitying her daughter-in-law.

Albert shook his head and sighed. "I think we should open a clinic and let her work on her own. Working at the hospital means dealing with so many patients... she ends up completely exhausted."

Rowan cleared his throat and changed the subject. "So... is there any dinner? I’m starving."

He hadn’t eaten since getting home from work earlier. Lyra had suggested they exercise first, and they came straight here, leaving his stomach growling loudly.

"Of course, dinner’s ready, just needs to be served."

They headed for the dining room while Monica instructed the maids to set the table.

...

The next morning, Lyra and Monica were already dressed and ready for the tea party, and Rowan walked them to the door.

He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Enjoy the tea party."

He then turned to Monica and kissed his mother’s cheek. "Take good care of her."

Monica patted his back, a small smile on her face. "We’re only going to a tea party. Stop worrying so much."

She looped her arm with Lyra’s and guided her toward the car, where the driver was already waiting

Rowan waited at the porch until the car vanished from sight.

The tea party was held at Linda Whitmore’s exquisite mansion, tucked behind perfectly trimmed hedges. Only her closest friends had been invited.

As soon as Monica arrived, a warm, lilting voice called out,

"Monica! Finally, you’ve brought a daughter-in-law."

Linda swept Lyra into a gentle hug. "Hello, darling. Welcome to my party."

"Thank you, Auntie. I brought a little gift for you," Lyra said, offering her a carefully wrapped present.

"How thoughtful of you, dear. Let’s go inside," Linda said, leading them toward the garden where the tea party was already in full swing.

Then she paused, leaning slightly toward Monica, lowering her voice.

"Oh, I nearly forgot to mention. An uninvited guests appeared at my gate earlier," she said, then resumed walking gracefully toward the party.

Monica barely raised an eyebrow at the comment. After all, it was the host’s choice whom to invite.

As they approached the garden, both she and Lyra stiffened. The guests Linda had mentioned were Gwen Windsor and her daughter, Chloe.

"Here they are, the so-called royal guests," Gwen murmured, eyes glinting as she sized up Monica and Lyra.

Gwen, irritated at being uninvited, had still come anyway, pretending she was only stopping by for Linda.

She tried to stir up an unpleasant atmosphere around Monica but was completely ignored. That only made her more frustrated and exposed.

Judith, Barbara, and Priscilla greeted the two who had just arrived.

"I saw her on TV the other day, during the lucky draw. She’s even more beautiful in person," Judith complimented.

"Do come, join us," Linda said with a graceful wave, and her friends moved to take their seats at the table.

Lyra didn’t bother looking at the Windsors. She was well aware that Chloe didn’t like her.

Today was supposed to be a workday. She wondered whether Chloe had taken the day off too.

Barbara had brought her daughter along, home for the semester break. She introduced her to Lyra, and the two soon found themselves sitting side by side, chatting easily.

The Windsors, meanwhile, sat nearby, their expressions tight, clearly left out of the conversation