When There Is Nothing Left But Love (Ashton And Scarlett)

I looked away and avoided his gaze, but he took me by surprise with an amorous kiss.

It took me a short while to pull myself together. “Summer is still in Glenwood Apartments! I need to return to her!”

Staring at me, he said, “I have gotten in touch with Jackson. He told me he would look after Summer. Since you’re back, don’t you think you’re supposed to live with me?”

My brows furrowed. “But we’re already divorced!”

“I have never signed the agreement.” He uttered in a hoarse voice.

He then lifted me up and brought me into the villa against my will. It was only then that I noticed we had made our way back to the villa at Peakville Estate.

Apart from the exterior of the villa, nothing much had changed over the past four years.

I felt uncomfortable being carried by him. Hence, I insisted, “I can walk on my own!”

“It’s fine. Just close your eyes and take a break.”

I found his words absurd because it was only a short distance that would take me a few minutes at most.

The moment we entered the living room, I was caught off guard by the presence of Sally and Nancy.

In spite of her pale and haggard face, it didn’t impact the noble presence she was blessed with

intimate manner startled the duo who was drinking tea in the

her scrunched-up face. Staring at Ashton, she asked petulantly, “Why

His tone

of losing her cool. “Ashton, since you guys are divorced, why can’t you move on? It has

for you to leave!” He made himself clear that

uttering in a gentle tone, “If you’re sleepy,

sigh when I realized I had indirectly offended

have everything you

seemed to be

fellow woman, I knew the emotions associated with that look—I was certain she was head over

be certain of the sort of relationship

called out, her voice echoed in

Goldstein?” Ashton turned around and queried with a frown. It was evident he was irked

her lips pursed, “I have something regarding the deal with

tone, “Ms. Goldstein, it’s nine o’clock in the evening. Fuller Corporation only operates from nine in the morning till six in the evening. Since we’re three hours beyond work hours, don’t you think it’s rude to talk about work now? I’m afraid others are going to misperceive

and asked, “You’re twenty-six-year-old, aren’t you, Ms. Goldstein? I’m sure you know the appropriate time to bring work up, don’t you? It doesn’t feel great to have a stranger in the house. I’m not sure how you manage to gain access to my house, but I don’t wish to see you here without my consent in the future. After all, I don’t enjoy having

his wrath, no