Taken By My Fiancé's Uncle - Chapter 77: Chapter 77

Eugene shot her a sideways glance. "Wanna head back? It's okay. I'm fine."
His flat tone made Lorraine want to punch him, but how she didn't dare. She thought for a moment and said, "I just don't get why you live here."
Before they stretched Antiquity Lane, a weathered strip where she eyed the rickety wood-frame row houses and crumbling stone manors warily. The buildings leaned like drunks, their Gothic arch windows cracked and ivy strangling the limestone facades.
"Convenience," Eugene replied, his tone straightforward.
Lorraine sized up the block and clammed up. He wasn't lying—it was indeed close to Moore Group.
Then they traversed the Antiquity Lane slick with refuse, past shops hawking wares, and through bakeries where the air thickened with the mingled scents of croissants and mulled wine.
At the lane's end, Eugene led her to a weathered oak door, its iron hinges flecked with rust. He produced a key from his pocket and unlocked it.
Lorraine instantly regretted her earlier words. Eugene truly deserved to be a wealthy heir—he owned a palatial stone manor in the heart of the city.
Inside, newly mortared stone walls rose to a vaulted ceiling, and in the courtyard, a massive chestnut tree shaded a wrought-iron swing. It was peak blossom season, and white petals snowed down, a few catching in her hair.
Even the courtyard tiles were polished marble, hinting at the modern luxuries hidden behind the medieval exterior. 'Hidden depths,' she thought.
Now, she wasn't worried about Elsie emerging from within. Her taut nerves slackened as she stepped inside. "This place is gorgeous," she murmured.
Eugene glanced at her without a word. But as he turned, a faint smile touched his lips.
The door clicked shut, and they crossed to the main hall. Dark oak furniture oozed old-world elegance, while stained-glass windows cast rainbows over carvings of griffins and flowers.
"I'll grab a shower. You start cooking." Eugene tossed the order over his shoulder before striding into the bathroom with casual ease.
Lorraine paused and asked, "You sure you want me cooking? Maybe we should order in?"
"I don't let anyone else in here," Eugene replied casually from the bathroom door, then shut it.
Lorraine stood frozen, her heart racing. 'He doesn't let anyone else in, but he let me. So... I'm different?'
A flutter of warmth hit her, then fizzled. 'I must be overthinking. He probably just said it offhand,' she grumbled to herself.
After a while, she reluctantly made her way to the kitchen, which was decked out with all the latest appliances. Thankfully, she had picked up some basic cooking skills at Silverlake Villa, so whipping up oatmeal would be a piece of cake.
She was stirring the pot when the kitchen door swung open. She turned and nearly dropped the spoon.
Warm light spilled into the room, casting a glow on Eugene's chiseled frame. Lorraine stood frozen for ages before yelping, "Eugene, where's your shirt?"
He walked in wearing only suit pants, his stunning muscular chest completely exposed. Lorraine had seen lots of medical models before, but nothing compared to his perfect build.
Eugene didn't answer, just stepped closer, one slow pace at a time.
Lorraine's heart raced, like the bubbling oatmeal on the stove. She backed up, step for step, till her hips hit the counter.
"How can you walk around naked? I could totally sue for harassment," Lorraine warned, her voice shaking.
"I'm wearing something." Eugene pointed to the bandage on his arm. "Not completely bare."
'How shameless!' Lorraine screamed in her heart.
Trapped between the counter and his chest, she had nowhere to run. Her heart raced wildly, and heat flooded her cheeks before she could stop it.
"Flustered? Can't look at me?" Eugene leaned in slowly, his chiseled face filling her vision until his reflection swallowed her entire gaze. Pleased, he raised an eyebrow.
"Wh-who said I can't?" Lorraine's voice wavered, but she refused to back down.
"Well, like what you see?" Eugene whispered, his breath hot against her ear.
"Like it? Please. It's just 206 bones and 639 muscles. Literally just carbs."
A spark flickered in Eugene's eyes. He pressed closer, a wicked grin tugging his lips. "Oh yeah? Then what's this—bone or muscle?"
"That's the bulge!" Lorraine hissed, nearly losing it. Through her dress and his suit pants, she could feel its size and heat. 'How the hell is it that big?' she thought.
Eugene chuckled, "Wrong answer. I was talking about my arm." Teasing her was always a thrill for him—always had been, always would be.
Lorraine fell silent.
Eugene inched nearer, gaze locking on her lips, eyes darkening to pitch.
Lorraine knew she couldn't escape. Too afraid to touch his bandaged arm, she squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself.
His scorching breath ghosted over her skin, winding around her heart. Her lashes fluttered wildly, betraying her nerves.
"Did you think I was gonna kiss you?" Eugene suddenly drawled.
The charged atmosphere dissolved in an instant. Lorraine's eyes snapped open, her face flushing with embarrassment. "As if! I was just dozing off for a second. That's why I closed my eyes!"
"Oh, you like sleeping in the kitchen? Standing up?"
"I do what I want! I'd rather kiss a pig than have you kiss me," Lorraine blurted out without thinking.
With Eugene, she could blurt anything—no filter, no fear of pissing him off. It was so different from her time at the Shaw residence, where she had to be cautious even when breathing.
'Pig?' Eugene's face darkened. He glared at her, silent.
Lorraine squirmed under his stare, turning away. "Don't get me wrong. I'm not insulting you. It's just a metaphor."
"Metaphor? You've kissed pigs?" Eugene's voice was icy.
"Nope, only Coconut."
Eugene instantly felt grossed out. "You smell like a bunny. I don't want to kiss you at all."
"As if I'm not asking you to!" Lorraine shot back. Her head was still down, and her eyes landed right on his rock-hard, smooth abs. Heat crawled under her skin, prickling like static. She licked her lips unconsciously, suddenly parched.
Eugene tracked her every move, his gaze lingering on her lips. That tiny lick—like a kitten lapping milk—left her lips glossy and tempting, making his pulse throb. He swallowed, stepping back to release her.
"My zipper's stuck. Can you help?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
Lorraine went rigid. "What?"
"I'm used to using my right hand; my left can't do the job. And I'm kind of desperate to use the bathroom," Eugene said calmly, trying hard to suppress a smile. "Help me out."
Lorraine was speechless. 'Help him unzip his pants and use the restroom? How? Stand by and watch? Or cheer him on?'
"I'm a bit of a germaphobe. I usually only use my right hand, but it's hurt now, and my left doesn't feel right. You'll have to come in and help me," Eugene said seriously, not a hint of teasing in his tone.
Lorraine stared in surprise at the bulge below his belt and blurted, "Help with what?"
"The sponge thing you mentioned earlier."
Lorraine fell silent. Steamy images exploded in her brain, making her face burn and her pulse race.
"Why are you blushing? Thinking something dirty?" Eugene feigned innocence. "I just need a hand. Don't get the wrong idea."
"I didn't!" Lorraine shouted back. To hide her awkwardness, she nodded sharply. "It's just lending a hand. No big deal! Like turning off a leaky pipe—it's basic decency."
"Oh really?" A hint of mischief flickered in Eugene's eyes. He leaned in closer, breathing softly into her ear. "The pipe might be small enough to hold. But what if my thing is too big for you to handle?"
Lorraine held back the urge to whack him with the frying pan behind her. She cleared her throat and marched to the door. "Fine, let's go. It's just a hand—won't kill me!"
She swore to herself, 'Next time, I'd rather get hurt than let this jerk help. Oh, why would he get his arm hurt? How annoying!
'Now that he's a clean freak, I'll head to the supermarket and grab a pack of adult diapers. That way, he won't need to use his hands at all—much cleaner!'
Plotting revenge, she followed him into the bathroom.
Eugene grabbed her hand with his good left, pressing it to his belt. "Need a tutorial? Or you got this?"
The cold metal buckle in Lorraine's palm contrasted with the burning heat of his hand on the back, making her shiver instinctively. "I really want to strangle you with this belt," she snapped.