Dear ex-Wife please be mine again

Chapter 65

Alexander POV.

Christiana was a mess. A beautiful, intoxicating mess. The way she swayed on her feet, eyes half–lidded with exhaustion and alcohol, it was clear she was nearing her limit. I watched from across the room, half–amused, half–concerned. She raised her glass again, but before it could reach her lips, her knees buckled.

Without thinking, I was there, catching her before she hit the floor. Her body was light in my arms, and I could smell the faint traces of perfume mixed with the alcohol on her breath. She mumbled something incoherent as I lifted her, but the tone was unmistakably drunk.

“I’m fine,” she slurred, trying to wave me off, but I held on tighter, ignoring her weak protests.

“Sure you are.” I muttered, carrying her towards the entrance. Her driver was already waiting outside, leaning against the car, oblivious to what had just transpired inside the bar.

For a second, I thought about simply handing her over to him, letting him take her back to her hotel. It was the easy choice. The rational one. But then again, this was Christiana, and trusting anyone else with her in this state wasn’t an option. Not

anymore

“Open the door.” I barked at the driver as I approached. The man, who already knew me too well, nodded without question, opening the back door for me.

I laid her carefully in the back seat, her head resting against the window. She murmured something as I moved to pull away. her fingers brushing against my sleeve.

“You smell so good,” she muttered, barely audible, her words slurred and sleepy.

That hit me in a way I wasn’t prepared for. I paused, the tiniest smile tugging at my lips. For a moment, just a brief, fleeting second, it felt like old times–before the divorce, before everything went sideways. It was soft, sweet, and soothing. A glimpse of her real feelings breaking through the alcohol haze.

My heart tightened. Was that how she truly felt? Underneath all the resentment and anger, did she still see the man I once was? I shook the thought away. This was the alcohol talking, not Christiana.

I slid into the backseat beside her, letting her head fall against my shoulder. The warmth of her cheek on my skin stirred something in me I hadn’t felt in a long time. Her breathing became even, and I glanced down to see her fast asleep.

The driver pulled away from the curb, glancing at us through the rearview mirror but saying nothing. He knew better than to ask questions.

The drive to the hotel was quiet. The city lights blurred outside, but all I could focus on was the weight of Christiana against me. I knew it wasn’t going to change anything between us–hell, she’d probably cuss me out in the morning–but for now, in this quiet moment, it felt like we were back in sync.

We pulled up to the hotel, and I stepped out of the car, scooping Christiana into my arms. She shifted slightly, murmuring under her breath again, but she didn’t wake.

I made my way inside, her bodyguards immediately stepped forward, their faces tense when they saw her in my arms. They blocked my path, staring at her unconscious form.

in

stepped aside. They knew me. They knew our history, and they

dark, the quiet hum of the

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18:08 Fri, Oct 18

Chapter 65

in for the night. The nanny had

room, the soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminating the space. Her breathing was

her face. For all the fire

last Tomorrow, she’d be back to the sharp–tongued Christiana I knew. But for tonight, I was content with this. Just her, asleep, he head

turned away, pulling the covers up over her before heading out of the room.

I stopped in my tracks, turning to see Christiana stirring. She pushed herself up, her face pale, eyes

stepping

wobbling on her feet. Something wasn’t

get another word out, it

a freight train. Then, with horrifying precision, it splattered all over my shirt. The warm, chunky mess dripped down my chest as I froze, trying

recoiling from the nauseating stench that filled the room. Christiana hadn’t just vomited- she’d exploded. I could feel it seeping into my clothes, sticking to my skin. The sour, putrid smell made me

in a clean spot just a few feet away from the mess she’d created. She was already half–asleep again, her breathing slow and steady as if she hadn’t just unleashed hell on my shirt

moment, speechless. Of course, this would happen. Of course, Christiana would be this disastrous after one too many drinks. She had never been able to handle alcohol well–not even when we were married. Now I remembered why

to myself, peeling off my soiled jacket and shirt, careful not to smear more of her vomit on

sighed heavily. I couldn’t just leave her like this, in a puddle of

up my sleeves, I got to work. First, I grabbed a towel from the bathroom and wiped the vomit off the floor. The smell made me gag again, but I gritted my teeth and pressed

The stench clung to me, no matter how hard I scrubbed. My shirt was a lost cause, fossed into a corner, and my skin still felt sticky

floor. I shook my head. She’d be fine for a few minutes. I

to her bathroom, turning on the shower. The hot water blasted against my skin, and I stood there, letting it wash away the remnants of the night. The beat soothed my muscles, but

Christiana

vomited on me,

Chapter 65