Arianne bristled. “If you’re gonna behave like a dang animal again tonight, you… you’re officially a horndog!”
Mark was about to leave the bathroom when he stopped, turned around, and shot her a smug smirk. “Woof.”
That jerk! Why was it that even when he was imitating a dog, that woof leaving his lips just… hit differently? The way he said it with his irritatingly mesmerizing, dulcet voice, coupled with that perfect face, it was just….!
After finishing her preparation for work, Arianne descended the stairs and immediately caught a fleeting but familiar silhouette in her line of vision. Her expression instinctively darkened.
It was Shelly-Ann Leigh.
“Mark, dear! I was buying some groceries around this neck of the woods earlier this morning and thought I should come by and say hi to little Smore. Good thing you haven’t left, too, ‘cause I got you some breakfast!” she greeted cheerily, filtering Arianne out completely as she approached Mark.
Mark shot Mary a look. The housekeeper understood him immediately and lifted Smore—who was still munching away on his breakfast—up from his seat before hurrying up the stairs.
Shelly was very peeved by that immediate reaction, and she let her displeasure be known loudly. “What do you think you’re doing, Mary? Taking Smore away from me the moment I stepped into this house? What’s the meaning of this?”
Arianne took a step forward and addressed her complaint, deadpanned. “See, you might not know this, but Mark and I have made it clear in the divorce agreement that you’re not to see or get close to Smore. Should he fail to do that, I’ll leave this country with Smore and go somewhere far, far away… and you people shall never see us again.”
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