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.

her pale and haggard face,

that we showed up in such an intimate manner startled the duo who

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

“Aunt Sally, I believe that’s none of your business.” His tone was flat and emotionless, indicating to her

the verge of losing her cool. “Ashton, since you guys are divorced, why can’t

late. I believe it’s time for you to leave!” He made himself clear that he wanted his aunt to get out of

in a

but sigh when I realized I had

me upstairs and asserted, “I have everything you need in the bedroom. Nothing much

She seemed to be having

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

of the sort of relationship she had with Ashton over the past four

called out, her voice

Ashton turned around and queried with a frown. It was evident he was

replied with her lips pursed, “I have something regarding

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 our

a stern gaze at her 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

carefully curated speech that had perfectly disguised his wrath, no ordinary woman could stand being stung by such