Chapter 12: She’s not my wife.
Weston was standing just a meter behind her.
Victoria felt her heart race as she took in the presence standing outside the lounge surrounded by his bodyguards.
Nick was dressed in black sportswear, with his left hand in the pocket of his sweatpants. Due to his long legs and height, every move he made revealed an elegant sense of balance with straight and upright lines throughout his body.
He stood in the doorway of the lounge not far away and looked like he was about to enter.
Weston, however, couldn’t resist licking his lips, his smoldering gaze locked onto Victoria’s back. In a hushed tone, he commented, “Your husband’s here, and you’re not going to say hello?”
Victoria sucked in a breath and without hesitating a bit she walked over quickly.
Nick raised his hand and dropped it on the handle of the door in front of him. The door opened just a little when footsteps came from behind him, followed by the soft, refreshing body of the woman.
Before he could even refuse, Victoria gave a smooth push and the two went into the lounge together.
Nick’s expression grew icy, “Get out.”
The lock was released with a whirl and Victoria turned and looked at him with a sincere expression on her face, “Mr. Andrews, I didn’t mean to disturb you, can I hide here for a while?”
He didn’t say anything but his gaze went to her knees.
The man remained silent, his gaze dropping to her knees. Victoria followed his line of sight and noticed the red mark on her knee. It had worsened after coming into contact with hot water, taking on the appearance of a posture-related injury.
“I accidently bumped into the car-” Victoria stammered, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She was blushing uncontrollably as she felt a loss of words.All content © N/.ôvel/Dr/ama.Org.
However, Nick didn’t ask her about what she was explaining. Instead, he inquired condescendingly, “What are you doing here?”
“Work.” Victoria replied tersely.
A tense silence hung in the air.
Nick gave her a deep look, his face complex. Rather than kicking her out again he simply turned towards the bathroom.
As the sound of running water came from the bathroom, Victoria’s gaze wandered. Inadvertently, she caught a glimpse of a silhouetted figure reflected in the frosted glass.
The man’s physique was impeccable. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on the man’s body. The cascading water droplets glided down his chiseled chest before vanishing into the concealed area beneath.
Victoria was acutely aware of the temperature and force coursing beneath his skin. Feeling her cheeks flush, she hastily shut her eyes and turned her back to maintain her composure.
By the time she closed her eyes and turned her back, Weston and his bodyguard were no longer outside.
As the crisis was averted, she had no intention of staying there any longer.
Sleeping with Nick had already left her embarrassed.
With a looming divorce on the horizon, it was also more important to be self aware.
When Nick came out wearing a new suit, he looked around but Victoria was nowhere to be found. A sudden knock at the door caught his attention, and upon opening it, a waiter handed him an iced coffee. “Mr. Andrews, this is for you.”
Nick didn’t say anything as the waiter set the tray down and left.
His eyes went on the sticky note which was attached prominently on the coffee tray.
[Mr. Andrews, thank you for this time.]
The note was from Victoria, but there was no sign on it. Nick stood in place, feeling an unsettling déjà vu as if he had been used and discarded once more.
Coincidentally, it was the same woman yet again.
After dressing, he proceeded to the VIP lounge area arranged by Henderson.
Weston saw him come in, but he was a little puzzled when he didn’t see Victoria with him.
Carter Kingsley was the first to get up and shake Nick’s hand as he complimented him, “Mr. Andrews, your golf skills rival those of a coach so it’s a free valuable private lesson for me today.”
“Mr. Kingsley is too kind.” Nick shook hands politely and took his seat.
Carter Kingsley then introduced his son, Weston. He patted his son as he said, “This is my son Weston, I will have to ask Mr. Andrews to take care of him in the future.”
As Weston stepped forward, he couldn’t ignore the dominance of the man in front of him, and instinctively extended his hand.
“Mr. Andrews, your wife didn’t join you?” Weston inquired.
“Wife?” A flash of doubt crossed Nick’s eyes.
“Didn’t you both go into the lounge together?” Weston continued, his mouth moving independently as he complimented, “I’ve always admired Poppy, I didn’t realize she was still in such a relationship with Mr. Andrews…”
Understanding whom Weston meant by “wife,” Nick’s jet-black eyes turned frigid and a layer of frost covered his cold face. It was apparent that Victoria had maintained a veneer of distance while secretly toying with such notions.
His face remained expressionless as he coldly interjected, “She’s not my wife.”