Page 75 of Johan.

Inside, the room is in disarray. The sight of the vomit on the floor is jarring, a stark contrast to the otherwise pristine place. Astrid is locked inside the bathroom, and the sound of her retching can be heard faintly through the door. The staff members are already hard at work, cleaning the vomit from the floor with practiced efficiency. I stand at the doorway, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety.

“Thank you for handling this,” I say to the housekeeper, trying to maintain a calm demeanor.

The housekeeper nods, her face a mask of professionalism. “It’s no trouble at all, sir. We’ll have this cleaned up quickly.”

The smell is overpowering, but the staff works diligently, scrubbing and sanitizing the area. I move to the window, opening it to let in some fresh air. The cool morning breeze is a small relief, helping to dissipate the nauseating odor. I glance toward the bathroom door, where Astrid is still confined, her misery evident from the sounds she’s making.

As the cleaning progresses, I reflect on the previous night, the tension and coercion, and the lengths I’ve gone to regain some semblance of control. The consequences are playing outin front of me, and I’m left to deal with the aftermath, one uncertain step at a time. Each sound from the bathroom sends a pang of guilt through me, mixed with a twisted sense of vindication.

The housekeeper and butler work quickly and efficiently, their presence a comforting routine in the midst of the chaos. I step aside to give them space, leaning against the wall and rubbing my temples, trying to alleviate the growing headache.

Once the mess is cleaned, they begin spraying the whole bedroom with home perfume and other odor-masking products. The fresh scent of lavender and citrus starts to permeate the room, gradually overpowering the nauseating smell of vomit.

“Is there anything else we can do for you, sir?” the butler asks as they finish cleaning, his voice gentle.

I shake my head. “No, thank you. I’ll handle the rest.”

They nod and quietly leave the room, taking the cleaning supplies with them. I take a deep breath, bracing myself for whatever comes next. The morning sunlight filters through the window, casting a pale glow over the room, and I can hear Astrid’s movements slowing in the bathroom. Then, the door opens, and she finally leaves and goes straight to bed, too tired to do or say anything. She collapses onto the mattress, instantly falling into a deep sleep. I watch her for a moment, relieved that she’s resting, then quietly grab my iPhone and slip out of the room. I head to a guest bedroom where I can be alone to sleep a few more hours.

Inside the guest room, I lock the door softly behind me, leaning against it for a moment as I exhale deeply. The room is dimly lit by the early morning light filtering through the curtains. I walk over to the bed and sit down, feeling the weight of the night's events pressing down on me. I check my phone and see a few messages from Hannah. One of them is a picture of Arthur holding a drawing between his two small hands. Thedrawing shows a dragon and two knights, one short and one tall, with yellow hair and blue eyes. I chuckle, realizing the taller knight is me. The accompanying text reads,Arthur has a gift for you.

A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as I text back,Tell him it's really well done. Don't forget to bring it back with you.

Almost immediately, she responds,Hey! I texted this yesterday. Can I call you?

I reply,Yes.

Moments later, my phone rings. I take a deep breath, trying to put on a brave front. “Good morning, beautiful,” I say, attempting to sound upbeat.

“How are you doing?” The tone in her voice makes it clear she knows the hell I went through last night.

“I’m…” I stop mid-sentence, unable to lie. “Not well, Hannah. But the castor oil I placed in her cocktail is doing its job. Astrid’s been throwing up the whole night. A small consolation prize.”

“Do you know for how long she's going to be sick?” she asks, her voice filled with concern but also relief.

“For as long as she stays here, let me tell you that.”

Hannah chuckles despite the gravity of the situation. “Soon enough, and we'll be in St. Moritz, just the two of us,” I add.

“It's going to be a wonderful week,” she tells me. “But how did you manage to make it happen?”

“Well, technically, it's a boys’ trip. Conrad and two of his mates are coming. That's the only way I managed to keep Astrid at bay.”

“Your determination impresses me,” she says, her tone playful. “I'll make it worth it.”

I start to picture the red lace set on Hannah and how good she'd look in it. Picturing it, I begin to touch myself, feeling a mix of relief and excitement. “Speaking of which, do you have a red lace set?”

"Eh, I don't think so, but I can get one."

"Will you do it for me?"

"Of course," she replies.

I lean back on the bed, closing my eyes and letting the tension of the past night melt away as I think of Hannah. The thought of her in red lace fills my mind, giving me a momentary escape from the turmoil of the past night. I can almost see her, the delicate fabric clinging to her curves, her smile lighting up the room.

"You're amazing," I whisper, lost in the fantasy.

"You're the amazing one," she counters, her voice soft and affectionate.

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