Chapter 59 Including... the scent of someone else on you.
Back in the east wing of the property, Katherine parked her bike. In the main building, only Octavio's room still had its lights on—he was probably still suffering from the “forced revision” imposed by his brother.
She walked slowly across the courtyard, instinctively looking up at the second floor. Everything was dark. He must already be asleep, she thought. After all, it was past one in the morning.
However, as soon as she crossed the threshold, she stopped abruptly. João Pedro's distinctive scent — mint and sandalwood — was intense on the first floor. Only the warm orange light in the entrance hall was on, plunging the room into a mysterious and cozy silence.
Following the scent, she located João Pedro near the staircase. In the dim light, the tall man was leaning against the wall, his head down and his long legs slightly bent. He was so still that he looked like he was sleeping standing up, but Katherine knew that no one would sleep in such a rigid position.
She walked languidly toward him and reached out, pressing the switch near his shoulder. With a click, the staircase light came on, casting an orange beam that illuminated the man's sculpted face. His eyes were open and clear. There was no sign of sleepiness.
He had been waiting for her in the dark.
Katherine calmly held his gaze. “Why didn't you turn on the light?”
A touch of indecipherable emotion appeared in João Pedro's eyes as he replied with forced casualness: “I just got here.”
His deep voice was slightly hoarse, lending those words a dangerous ambiguity. Despite his indifferent facade, he couldn't hide his inherent possessive harshness. His critical, penetrating gaze analyzed her from head to toe, searching for traces of where she had been.
Katherine found the situation fascinating. She tilted her head to one side, watching him with a playful smile on her lips. “Do you have something to tell me?”
The man suddenly lowered his head, leaning toward her. In the warm light, his face was a composition of light and shadow, highlighting the perfect cut of his jaw. His dark pupils were fixed on Katherine, dense and unblinking.
“I have Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder,” he said, each word carefully carved.
Katherine didn't flinch. “So what?” Her voice was light, devoid of any intimidation.
“Without my permission,” he continued, his voice lowering a tone, “no one else is allowed in this house. Including... the scent of another person on you.”
Katherine lifted her chin, a fearless, playful gleam meeting his. “And what does that have to do with me?”
João's eyes narrowed. In a sudden movement, he pressed his arm against the wall, next to her ear, enclosing her in his personal space. He let out a dry, dangerous chuckle. “Who was the man who brought you here just now? Huh?”
Katherine remained silent for a moment, studying him with exasperating calm. Suddenly, a smile blossomed on her lips. “Are you... jealous?”
In the amber light, her beauty seemed almost unreal. João Pedro faltered for a millisecond, his gaze losing focus in the face of such direct provocation. He was so stunned that he barely processed what she whispered in his ear immediately afterward.
Before walking away, Katherine's fingers deliberately tugged at his earlobe. “Good night,” she said playfully, leaving him behind as she walked toward the bedroom.
João blinked, her words finally echoing in his mind: “Your ears are really red.”
Marcus, who had been watching everything in absolute silence from a corner of the hall, stepped forward with a beaming smile on his face, holding urgent documents. “Sir... it seems you've just been ‘courted’ by a young lady. Apparently, you're much more innocent than I thought.”
João gave him a cold stare, capable of freezing the very air. “What do you want, Marcus?”
“Oh, did you forget the documents you asked me for? Or maybe you were... distracted by something more interesting?”
João snatched the papers from his hand, quickly checking them. “Mr. Marcus, are you planning to retire early?”
Marcus, realizing the real danger, immediately fell silent, although the smile still shone in his eyes.
The next morning, Katherine woke up a little later, awakened by the comforting aroma of cooked rice. When she arrived in the living room, she was met with an unlikely scene: João Pedro was in the kitchen.
Was he... cooking?
Katherine narrowed her eyes, approaching to watch him from the side. She saw him take two eggs from a basket.
“Fried or boiled?” he asked, without turning around. His voice was calm, but carried his usual authority.
Katherine pressed her lips together, intrigued. “Are you cooking for me?”
“I'm just taking advantage of the fact that I was going to make it for myself,” he lied, still with his back to her.
In Katherine's mind, the image of João Pedro and a kitchen were parallel worlds that should never intersect. She walked over to the stove, looked at the pot of boiling water, and commented, “The pasta isn't done yet.”
“They're done,” he replied, about to remove them.
Katherine instinctively reached out and pressed the back of his hand to stop him. “Almost there. Wait two more minutes.”
João felt the touch of her delicate fingers against his skin. A lump formed in his throat. The coolness of Katherine's fingertips, mixed with the hot steam from the pot, seemed to burn through his senses. He looked away, trying to contain the emotion that threatened to show, and slowly stirred the pasta again.
Katherine withdrew her hand and looked at the chopped ingredients on the counter with an air of disappointment. “What's wrong?” he asked.
“No carrots,” she raised her eyebrows, regret evident.
João Pedro watched her. “Do you like carrots?”
“Pasta and carrots go perfectly together,” she explained, looking him in the eye. “The lack of one of them leaves the flavor incomplete, strange.”
“Carrots are the source of strange flavors,” he retorted, with his characteristic stubbornness.
Katherine shrugged, not wanting to argue, and left the kitchen. João Pedro opened his mouth to say something, but stopped. His eyes followed her figure disappearing down the hall before returning to the pasta. He stood there, lost in thought about how something as simple as a carrot could be so important to her.
During her morning walk, Katherine met Anastasia, who was exercising in the soft sunlight. Almost mechanically, Katherine picked up a dry branch from the ground and began her training routine, her precise movements reminiscent of an ancient martial dance.
“Kath, have you had the breakfast João made?” Anastasia asked, twisting her waist with a radiant smile.