035: Who said I'm drunk?

A wide smile plastered itself on Elliot's lips, a blend of amusement and something more primal flickering in his eyes. His amusement was mirrored by a stirring excitement that settled in the third member between his legs. His gaze lingered, tracing every delicate movement of the maid as she approached, her graceful steps almost mesmerizing.

As she poured a glass of rich, dark wine into his goblet, Elliot's eyes followed her every gesture—every tilt of the wrist, every shift of her hips. The deep red liquid swirled in the glass, but his attention was far from the drink. When she moved to fill Ivan’s glass, Elliot’s gaze remained locked on her, captivated by the gentle sway of her form, the soft rustle of her uniform.

He shook his head slightly, a wry smile tugging at his lips. If only the women in his manor possessed the same allure as those who served Ivan. A thought struck him—he was genuinely surprised Ivan hadn’t boasted about bedding a maid or two by now. All Ivan ever seemed to