Mission: From Divorcee to Millionaire

Chapter 522

Everett gently wrapped Selena in her bathrobe and tucked her snugly under the covers. He got out of bed, slipped into his clothes, and stepped out onto the balcony.

The night had quietly faded, leaving a soft glow on the horizon.

The sea breeze billowed through his white shirt, which he had lazily buttoned halfway, revealing a patchwork of scratches across his chest. Some were still fresh and bleeding a testament to the night's wild passions.

Everett lit a cigarette, leaning casually against the railing as the wind whisked away the smoke. He didn't really smoke it, just let it burn out. Once he stubbed it out, his tangled thoughts began to settle.

Turning back inside, he returned to the cabin.

He pulled Selena into his arms and closed his eyes.

Selena slept deeply, waking only when the sun was already high in the sky. Sitting up was a struggle; her body felt as though it had been taken apart and put back together wrong, and her waist and legs were so sore she could hardly straighten them. Yet she felt surprisingly fresh, that man must have taken care of her.

Memories of the previous night's chaos flickered through her mind, stirring a sense of unease and frustration. This was exactly what she hadn't wanted.

She thought she had everything figured out, but she hadn't accounted for Everett's relentless fixation on her. Even after three years and with Margot out of the picture, he still wouldn't let her go.

couldn't grasp what was going on in Everett's mind, but she was done trying to

night's indulgence, he showed no signs of weariness. Instead, he seemed

Come on, have

approached with long

rough, "Everett, you've gotten what you wanted. When are you

out the window earlier and saw they were still

and her uncle must

sick, and little Mateo-she worried about what this might

that thought, her gaze turned icy with

touch her cheek, but Selena turned away, her eyes wary.

paused, a

her, "Don't tell me, Mr. Everett, you're planning to take me to some

Vel

you did three years

lingered in mid-air, his fingers slightly

sarcasm hit him with a dull

softly, "I whipped up some of your favorite dishes. Let's

sleeping through the morning well into the afternoon, she must