Chapter 76

Chapter 76
The next morning, Georgiana slept until well past nine o'clock. Surprisingly, Michael was still asleep beside her, his breathing deep and even.

She propped herself up on one elbow, studying his peaceful face—the smooth brow, the relaxed curve of his lips, the way his eyelashes rested against his cheeks.

There was something profoundly intimate about watching someone sleep, seeing them completely unguarded.

After several minutes, as if sensing her gaze, Michael's eyes fluttered open. Still half-asleep, he reached out and pulled her into his arms with a soft groan.

"I barely slept all night," he murmured against her hair, his voice thick with sleep.

Georgiana had never seen him like this—almost childlike in his drowsiness, unguarded and vulnerable. Her heart melted at the sight. She gently stroked his hair, letting her fingers run through the soft strands.

"Why couldn't you sleep?" she asked softly.

The question seemed to jolt Michael fully awake. His eyes widened slightly as memories of the previous night flooded back—Georgiana curled against him, her warm breath tickling his neck like feathers, the scent of his own shower gel on her skin, and the herculean effort it had taken to restrain himself all night.

He cleared his throat and slipped out of bed, stretching his arms above his head. As he turned, his eyes caught sight of Georgiana's underwear still hanging on the chair. Without thinking, he reached out and touched the fabric.

"Is it dry?" Georgiana asked, shrinking back into the covers, suddenly self-conscious.

"Not yet," Michael replied. "The weather's been too humid lately."

He disappeared from the room briefly, returning with a small electric heater from the storage room. As he carefully arranged her underwear near the heater to dry, he found himself strangely fascinated by how tiny the garment was—a delicate scrap of white cotton that seemed impossibly small in his hands.

After her underwear was finally dry, Georgiana changed into her clothes while Michael stepped out. By the time she emerged, Victor had already prepared breakfast and was tending to his plants on the balcony, carefully trimming the leaves of a potted fern.

Michael leaned against the balcony doorframe, watching his father. "Maybe you should find someone," he suggested quietly. "A companion."

Victor shook his head without looking up from his plant.

"I've lived half my life already. What's the point of finding 'someone' now?" He paused, his fingers still on the leaves.

"I dreamed about your mother last night. She was angry with me, crying even."

Michael looked at his father with disbelief, his expression skeptical. "You're making that up."

"You don't have to believe me," Victor said with a slight shrug. "But I knew your mother's temperament better than anyone. She was narrow-minded in some ways, and delicate. If I forget her, she'd be upset."

Michael fell silent, deciding not to press the matter further.

When it was time for them to leave, Victor handed Georgiana a small wrapped package. She tried to refuse, but he insisted.

"Just take it," Michael said gently.

Georgiana carefully unwrapped the gift to find a woman's mechanical watch inside. It was elegant but understated, with a simple leather band and a clean face.

Michael stared at the watch, his gaze distant and thoughtful.

Georgiana recognized its significance without needing to be told—this had likely belonged to his mother.

They boarded the train back to the city, watching the landscape blur past the windows. By the time they reached Georgiana's apartment, twilight had descended, painting the sky in shades of deep purple and orange.

Standing at her door, Michael looked at her with an unreadable expression.

"Are you afraid to stay here alone?" he asked quietly.

Georgiana remained silent, unsure whether to nod or shake her head. She could guess what Michael was about to suggest, and her heart beat faster in anticipation.

"Would you like to stay at my place?" he finally asked, his voice low and steady.

After a moment's hesitation, Georgiana nodded. "Okay," she said softly.

They packed a few of her essentials before heading to Michael's apartment. As he unlocked the door and switched on the lights, Georgiana glanced down, looking for slippers.

Michael opened a small cabinet by the door and pulled out a pair of fluffy rabbit slippers, placing them at her feet.

"When did you buy these?" Georgiana asked with delighted surprise as she slipped them on. They were soft and comfortable, like walking on clouds.

"Last week," Michael said, then pointed to another pair in the cabinet. "There are these too."

A pair of pink summer slippers sat neatly on the shelf. Georgiana took them out as well, smiling. "Perfect. I can wear these after my shower."

After settling her things, Georgiana realized it was already past nine. She took a shower and changed into her pajamas, emerging just after ten o'clock.

The apartment had two bedrooms, both with made-up beds. Georgiana took a deep breath, turned off the living room light, and walked into the bedroom where a light was still on.

Michael was arranging pillows on the bed. When he saw her enter with flushed cheeks, he paused for a moment before asking, "Did you dry your hair?"

"Yes," she replied.

"It still looks wet," he said, reaching out to touch a strand of her hair. It was indeed still damp.

Michael retrieved a hair dryer and motioned for her to sit. Georgiana obediently perched on the edge of the bed as he began drying her hair, his fingers gently combing through the strands. The combination of the warm air and his fingertips against her scalp sent pleasant tingles down her spine, making her scrunch her shoulders and squirm slightly.

As she continued to fidget, Michael finally turned off the dryer, unplugged it, and switched off the light. In the darkness, he chuckled softly.

"Are you that ticklish?" he asked, playfully poking her waist.

Georgiana immediately curled up, nearly rolling off the bed. Michael caught her with one arm, pulling her back and tickling her again. She squealed and wriggled, and they tumbled together under the covers.

Their young bodies pressed together as he held her beneath him, his breathing becoming heavy. "If you want," he said, his voice husky, "you can sleep in the other room."

"I want to sleep here," she whispered back.

In the darkness, Michael's lips curved into a silent smile as he leaned down to kiss her.