Mission: From Divorcee to Millionaire

Chapter 297

Selena was completely worn out, barely able to keep her eyes open, too tired to put up any fight. She nestled against him, drifting off into a deep sleep.

Feeling the rhythm of her breathing even out as she slept in his arms, Everett's lips curled into a soft smile. Tonight's release had probably cleared away a lot of her pent-up tension, both physically and emotionally. Of course, he'd enjoyed some of the perks too, though they were few and far between.

Everett held her a little closer, taking in her sweet fragrance, and gradually slipped into sleep himself.

The next morning, Selena slept in way past her usual time and only stirred when Ava knocked on the door, calling her name. She opened her eyes, still hazy with sleep. She couldn't shake off the drowsiness; waking up felt impossible!

Ava gently helped Selena sit up and brought over her clothes. Her skin was so fair and delicate that the bruises scattered across her body stood out starkly in the morning light.

Unable to hold back, Ava muttered, "Honestly, sir, knowing your wife's expecting, couldn't you be more careful? Men can be such beasts!"

Selena snapped out of her sleepiness amidst Ava's grumbling, feeling a bit embarrassed. "Ava, I've got it, I can dress myself. Could you whip up a strawberry smoothie for me today?" Sensing her embarrassment, Ava didn't push further and nodded. "Sure thing, I'll get that smoothie ready. Just be careful not to hurt yourself, alright?"

Selena's cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red. "I will, don't worry."

Once Ava left, Selena leaned back against the headboard, rubbing her sore waist and thighs for a bit before finally getting up to freshen up.

Everett was lounging behind his large desk, lazily flipping through some papers with a faint

chair to face him, getting right up

handsome face as if

up, definitely off!" he clicked his tongue

"If something's off, go

shoved Jaime away without a

off, I'm

desk, arms crossed,

with satisfaction, and there's this air of contentment about you. Plus, those scratch marks on your neck... Spillit,

of dumb question is that? Who else but

disbelief, "She's... and you're such a

the papers onto the desk and leaning back

his

chair, slightly lifting

chin.

Who