After His Sweetheart Moved In, He Came Home Every Night-Chapter 76: Third Uncle’s Sweet Words

Alice obediently followed Wyatt to his study.

’She knew he was liable to get aroused regardless of the time or place, so she was constantly on guard, ready to resist. This forbidden relationship had to end, and fast.’

"Come here."

Wyatt stood behind his desk and looked up at her. She couldn’t hide her expression; her face was full of indignation, like a stubborn calf.

Alice came over reluctantly, thinking, ’He isn’t planning on starting right here on the desk, is he?’

’No. I can’t let him have his way this time, no matter what.’

"You look like you’re ready to face the gallows. What is this desk, a guillotine?" Wyatt’s face clouded over with displeasure.

’Not much of a difference, really.’

Alice walked up to him, took a deep breath, and stated plainly, "No."

"No to what?" Wyatt pulled a brush from the holder and pressed it into her hand.

"I..." Alice froze, looking at him in confusion.

Wyatt pulled her in front of him, his chest pressing against her back. He leaned forward slightly, their bodies fitting together perfectly, without a single gap.

Her back went rigid, and her limbs began to stiffen.

"Relax," the man’s deep voice whispered in her ear, followed by a light pat on her bottom.

It wasn’t too hard, nor too soft, sending a tingly numbness through her.

A sheet of rice paper was already spread on the desk, and the inkstone was filled. He first showed her how to hold the brush, helping her find the most comfortable position. "How does this feel? If you’re not comfortable, go ahead and adjust it."

"..."

’So the new position he was talking about... was for writing?’

"What are you thinking about?"

The voice in her ear was laced with amusement.

She was completely dumbfounded, her mind a total blank. She forgot to answer.

"I guess this position isn’t comfortable." He guided her hand down a little, readjusting her fingers.

"How about now?" he asked again.

His scorching lips drew near her earlobe, just inches away. His scent enveloped her completely, a tight, inescapable shroud.

Alice was at a complete loss. The palm of the hand clutching the brush grew slick with sweat. Sensing her nervousness, he loosened his grip, wiped her palm dry with his thumb, and then took her hand again.

He guided her hand, pressing down.

Her hand felt disconnected from her brain, stiff and clumsy. The man reminded her, "Relax. Put the brush to paper."

His voice was so bewitching it left her dizzy and utterly disoriented. A moment later, a nine-word phrase appeared on the rice paper, written in the Slender Gold style—forceful and powerful, its sharp structure on full display, yet not without a gentle touch.

"My home is solemn; all who enter must be sincere."

She read the nine words aloud, her voice still faint and wavering.

Wyatt let go of her hand and removed the top sheet of paper. "Write it again yourself."

With that, he moved away from her back and leaned against the side of the desk, his long legs supporting him. He watched her with a gentle gaze, waiting for her to begin.

Alice grew nervous. "You were the one writing just now. I don’t know how."

Wyatt said, "Try."

Alice shook her head. "I can’t write well."

Wyatt repeated, "Just try. Whether it’s good or not is another question."

Alice still didn’t move. The study fell silent, save for the rhythmic TICK, TOCK of the grandfather clock. Finally, Wyatt turned back to her side, took her hand, and, stroke by stroke, guided her through the nine-word phrase once more. Unlike the first time, which was all his strength, she had now composed herself and was paying attention. With her own force added to the mix, the nine words were... much uglier than before.

She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to look.

"Why are you closing your eyes?"

Wyatt’s teasing voice reached her ear. "Can’t even stand to look at your own work?"

"Sorry to have offended you with its ugliness." Alice wanted to toss the brush aside but was afraid of damaging it. Wyatt’s possessions were always expensive.

Wyatt said, "Then just practice more. You’ll get better eventually."

"I just don’t have any talent for calligraphy." She refused to practice, gently setting the brush aside.

Wyatt stared at Alice for a moment. "Do you know what this phrase means?"

Alice hadn’t considered the phrase in detail, so she answered based on her own interpretation. As she spoke, Wyatt listened quietly without a single interruption until she was finished.

Then he asked another question, "Do you know why I had you write this phrase?"

The question was baffling. ’How could I possibly know what he’s thinking?’ But since Wyatt expected an answer, she just came up with one. "Third Uncle wants me to remember my place, to behave myself, stay in line, and not harbor any improper ideas about you."

Her answer didn’t quite match the phrase, but it was what she wanted to say.

Wyatt’s expression darkened. "Do you really not understand, or are you just pretending?"

She looked at him blankly. "What?"

Before she could react, her body went light, and she found herself sitting on the surface of the desk. Wyatt’s hands were on her waist; he had lifted her up there.

The desk was high, but sitting on it brought her almost to his eye level—no, she was still a little shorter. Wyatt’s back was hunched as he leaned in, moving his hands from her waist to brace them on the desk on either side of her, boxing her in.

She leaned back slightly, staring into his deep gaze. "Third Uncle..."

Wyatt raised a hand and pointed to his chest, tapping it firmly. "This place... no one else has ever lived here."

Alice’s breath hitched. She heard him say—

"Only you live here."

Vines climbed the latticed window, their new buds swaying in the evening breeze. The brushes on the holder swayed gently back and forth...

The atmosphere was as beautiful as a painting.

Alice couldn’t deny that the fluttering in her heart at this moment was because of what Wyatt had just said—’Only you live here.’

It was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever said to her.

But then she remembered everything that had happened recently, all of it orchestrated by him, and her rational mind forcibly suppressed the flutter in her chest. "Third Uncle’s sweet nothings... I never thought I’d get to hear them for myself."

Wyatt moved his hand from his chest, planting it on the desk behind her as he leaned in closer. "You think those are just sweet nothings?"

Alice leaned back farther and farther, struggling to support herself. "I’m sure you’ve said plenty of things like that to Miss Lancaster, right, Third Uncle? She must have been even more moved than I am."

"Alice!" 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

Veins bulged on the arm he had braced behind her. Fury brewed in his deep eyes, like a destructive, turbulent undercurrent at the bottom of a river.

Alice didn’t dare to speak.

’This time I didn’t fall for his sweet talk, I just called his bluff, and he gets this angry? Men and their fragile egos.’

"This place is closed off to everyone else. Only you are allowed to enter," he said, practically through gritted teeth.

This statement, combined with the phrase from before, was probably what he had been trying to tell her.

Alice understood now. Her tone was calm, tinged with a resigned self-awareness. "Don’t worry, Third Uncle. I’ll be sure to stay in my place until your marriage is finalized."

’She was completely missing the point!’

In a fit of anger, Wyatt swept the sheet of rice paper off the desk behind her. Alice watched as it fluttered to the carpet.

He backed away, giving her space to breathe. "Alice, you’re really something else."

Alice saw the towering rage in his eyes and felt a pang of fear, but she still replied stubbornly, "You flatter me, Third Uncle."

"Get out!"

Wyatt was incandescent with rage; he couldn’t stand the sight of her for another second.

The command was merciless, but to Alice, it was like being granted amnesty. She didn’t waste a second, scrambling down from the desk.

And then she ran.

She ran all the way to Mindy Vaughn’s rooms.

Mindy Vaughn’s personal maid saw her and looked surprised. "Miss Alice, you’re back..."

"Where’s my mom?" Alice asked as she walked inside.

The maid hurried to block her path. "Wait, Miss Alice. The Second Madam has already gone to bed."

"But it’s only six o’clock. Does my mom usually sleep this early? Did she eat dinner?"

She fired off one question after another, noticing the maid’s nervous stammering. When she reached the door, she didn’t bother knocking and pushed it right open.

The scene before her made Alice freeze for several seconds. She never imagined she would walk in on something like this.