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.

immediately stepped forward, their faces tense when they saw her in my arms. They blocked my path, staring at her unconscious form. “Sir, what

her weight in my arms. “I’m just getting her

they stepped aside. They knew me. They knew our

suite was a bit dark, the quiet hum of the air

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Chapter 65

in for the night. The nanny had

bedside lamp illuminating the space. Her breathing was

hair from her face. For all the fire and venom she directed my way during the day, in moments like this, she looked

sharp–tongued Christiana I knew. But for tonight, I was content with this. Just her, asleep, he head resting where it

covers up over her before heading out of the room.

I stopped in my tracks, turning to see Christiana stirring. She pushed

I asked, stepping closer. “You

answer. Instead, she staggered out of the bed, wobbling on her feet. Something wasn’t right. I moved towards her, extending a hand.

get another word out,

the floor, splashing in every direction. The smell of undigested food and stale alcohol hit me like a freight train. Then, with horrifying precision, it splattered all

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 gag,

lying in a clean spot just a few feet away from the mess she’d created. She was already half–asleep again, her breathing slow

Christiana would be this disastrous after one too many drinks. She had never been able to handle alcohol well–not even when

my soiled jacket and shirt, careful not to smear more of her vomit

her, slumped on the floor, dead to the world. She couldn’t even make it back to bed. I sighed heavily. I couldn’t just leave her like this, in a puddle of her own vomit, no matter how much she’d pissed

and wiped the vomit off the floor. The smell made me gag again, but I gritted my teeth and pressed on, scrubbing until the floor was at least semi–clean. After that, I

stench clung to me, no matter how hard I scrubbed. My shirt was a lost

the floor. I shook my head. She’d

against my skin, and I stood there, letting it wash away the

Christiana

vomited on me,

Chapter 65