Chapter 23

A loud sound echoed through the room, startling Delilah awake. 

She blinked a few times, disoriented, before realizing she was sprawled on the bed. 

Marco was gone. 

Her gaze flicked over the disheveled pillow beside her, the blankets tossed aside as if he had just left. 

Her long auburn curls now hung in tousled waves around her face, and she absentmindedly pushed them out of her eyes as she slowly sat up.

She exhaled, leaning back against the headboard, and let the events of last night replay in her mind. 

A sly smile curled on her lips as she remembered the warmth of Marco’s body wrapped around hers. 

"God, his arms felt amazing around me."

She could still feel the gentle pressure of his hands on her, the heat of his skin seeping into her own. 

"I love how he smells… all masculine and sexy."

She closed her eyes, savoring the memory. 

It wasn’t just the physical closeness, it was the way it made her feel… safe.

"Why did I feel so safe with him?" That thought gnawed at her. 

She wasn’t supposed to feel like that. 

Delilah Flynn didn’t need safety, didn’t crave protection. 

She was the one who controlled every situation. 

Yet here she was, reliving a night where, for the first time in a long while, she had let her guard down. 

She groaned, frustrated with herself. Marco was just supposed to be fun—a way to satisfy her cravings. 

He wasn’t supposed to make her feel vulnerable. 

A smirk tugged at her lips as she thought about how easily her mind was wandering back to his touch. 

"I wonder if he’d be up for taking things further…" Her fingers danced over the empty side of the bed where he’d been. 

"Mmm… those muscles…" She bit her lower lip. "I bet he’d look even better without that pajamas."

A flash of the dirty dreams she’d had about him crossed her mind—dreams that now felt like tempting realities. 

She imagined what might have happened if things had gone further, the heat between them rising to something much more than just cuddling. 

Damn, Marco’s got some serious skills!

Her cheeks flushed, and she shook her head, laughing softly at herself. 

"Stop it," she murmured aloud, scolding herself. "You’re a seductress, not a schoolgirl." 

Yet the warmth spreading across her face betrayed her. 

Who knew cuddling could be so addictive? 

She sighed, running her hands through her hair.

A sudden loud ping echoed from her phone on the bedside table—the same sound that had woken her earlier. 

She snapped out of her thoughts and grabbed the phone, the screen flashing with a notification from Shh, I Tame Real Men. 

Her eyes widened in recognition. 

It wasn’t just any notification; it was the sound that meant a new client had signed up.

Her smile widened, excitement bubbling inside her. 

She quickly slid out of bed, rushing to the bathroom. 

Thoughts of Marco’s lingering touch were swept aside by her drive. 

Business first. 

She took a quick shower, throwing on a new set of clothes, her clutch slung cross-body as she descended the stairs.

She could feel the hum of adrenaline as she prepared to head to the café to meet her new client.

As Delilah reached the bottom of the staircase, she saw Marco sitting at the dining table. 

He was casually sipping coffee, his eyes scanning the morning newspaper, while Mrs. Hayden, their housekeeper, served breakfast. 

Marco’s eyes flicked up as he heard her footsteps, locking with hers for an instant. 

For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to just the two of them. 

Her pulse quickened, remembering the warmth of his embrace, the way their bodies had fit so naturally together.

Then he broke the connection, his gaze returning to the newspaper. 

"Morning," he muttered, his voice cool and detached, as if nothing had happened between them.

Delilah’s stomach tightened for a second, a small pang of disappointment settling in. 

She shouldn’t have expected anything more. 

Marco was... complicated, and their moment last night was fleeting, a one-time thing. 

Still, a part of her wished for a different reaction, maybe a playful smirk, some hint that he hadn’t forgotten either. 

But she brushed it off quickly. 

She was stronger than that, and she didn’t need to be weighed down by unmet expectations. 

Delilah straightened her posture, keeping her head high as she continued her descent.

Mrs. Hayden’s back was turned to her, but the older woman stiffened as soon as Delilah’s footsteps approached. 

The housekeeper’s hand trembled as she placed a bowl of soup on the table, so much so that she accidentally knocked it over. 

The bowl tipped, spilling hot liquid across the table.

"Oh no!" Mrs. Hayden gasped, panic flooding her voice. 

She hurriedly grabbed a cloth to clean it up, muttering apologies under her breath. "I’m so sorry, sir. So sorry."

Delilah’s eyes narrowed slightly as she watched the woman’s frantic movements. 

Something was off. 

Mrs. Hayden had never been this jittery before. 

Her anxious fumbling as she cleaned the mess only made it more obvious. 

Delilah’s lips curled in a knowing smile. She knows. 

Mrs. Hayden must have read Delilah’s black book—the one with all the names, dates, and details of her secret job.

"So, the good housekeeper has been snooping," Delilah mused, walking slowly toward the dining table. 

She didn’t feel burdened by it, not really. 

Mrs. Hayden could panic all she wanted, but Delilah’s secret job had been kept private for a reason, and it was far too late for anyone to try and use it against her.

"Morning," she greeted casually, her voice calm as she approached Marco. "I need to head to the café. I’ve got a meeting."

Marco glanced up, his expression neutral. "Alright. See you later, then."

Delilah nodded, her eyes flicking toward Mrs. Hayden, who was still anxiously wiping the spill from the table. 

Before she turned to leave, Delilah took one last glance at the housekeeper. 

Mrs. Hayden’s gaze was fixed on her, wide with fear. 

Their eyes met, and Mrs. Hayden quickly averted her gaze, lowering her head in submission.

Delilah suppressed a chuckle. 

The fear in Mrs. Hayden’s eyes only confirmed what she already suspected—the woman had read everything in that black book. 

Still, it didn’t bother her. 

If anything, it amused her. 

She was far too happy about the new client to let anything, especially the housekeeper’s meddling, ruin her morning.