Falling For My Billionaire Savior - Chapter 92: Chapter 92

Mason chuckled, "What do you want to eat?"
I buried my face in the pillow and mumbled, "Anything edible. Fast."
He called room service, ordering an array of dishes, a bottle of wine, and a glass of juice for me.
Soon, a waiter wheeled in a cart, carefully placing each elegant piece of cutlery and dish on the table—polished knives, forks, spoons, and even the domed dish covers gleamed under the soft light. Crystal glasses sparkled beside an ornate candelabra, its candles flickering gently.
After receiving a generous tip from Mason, the waiter smiled happily and wheeled the cart out.
"Come eat," Mason said, sliding the juice toward me. Then, he poured himself a glass of wine.
I sat at the table, watching as Mason lifted each cover, revealing lobster bisque, ribeye steak, truffle pasta, creamed spinach...
Noticing my repeated glances at the candelabra, Mason explained, "Grandma arranged this."
I understood. That explained everything. It was Helen's sabotage—the ruined dress, the flat tire, the blackout. She knew Delilah cared about good omens, so she created all these little disasters to turn Delilah against me.
Realization hit me like a wave, and I frowned angrily, "All of it was Helen's doing. She wanted Delilah to hate me."
Mason rolled his eyes. "Took you long enough. Tsk, you're not completely clueless."
I grinned. "Was that a compliment?"
Ignoring me, he focused on his meal. But when the last bite was gone, his gaze became intent.
"What?" I asked warily.
"Take a bath?" He pulled me into his arms, voice dripping with amusement.
"Let me... recover first." My legs felt like jelly.
Mason headed to the bathroom. Soon, the sound of running water filled the suite. Assuming he would shower first, I closed my eyes, drifting toward sleep.
Mason suddenly scooped me up before I could even yelp, dropping me into his warm embrace. "I'll carry you," he murmured, gently lowering me into the bathtub.
The warm water quickly eased the exhaustion of the day. I sighed contentedly, sinking deeper. "Heavenly."
"Let me massage you," Mason said, stepping into the tub. His hands began roaming.
I swatted them away, then caught him staring at my chest. I hastily covered myself, though my hands barely made a difference.
He chuckled, "Relax. I won't touch you."
I shot back, "Humph, you've said that before, and look what happened."
Mason, unusually patient, just smiled, "Fine, I'll behave. But tell me what happened with the dress."
"Huh?" The sudden shift caught me off guard, but I quickly explained that Elena had scorched my wedding dress. I admitted, "If not for Joey swapping the dresses, I'd have worn a ruined one."
Mason nodded thoughtfully. "Grandma was right to make Joey your bridesmaid. I told you to fire Elena. Regret it now?"
I stayed silent, hesitating.
He flicked my shoulder. "Out with it. You're not smart enough to figure things out alone."
"Promise you won't get mad? Or... Fine, get mad, but no punishments." I bargained.
Mason didn't respond.
I pouted, "No deal? Then I won't— Ah! What are you doing?"
His lips brushed my neck. "First punishment. No more secrets in the future. Tell me everything. Understood?"
I didn't answer, instead biting his chest. His body tensed, and suddenly, clarity struck. He was my patron, not my lover.