Dear Ex-Wife Please Be Mine Again (Christina and Alex) novel Chapter 66

Christiana's POV.

I woke up with a throbbing migraine, my head pounding as if someone was banging a hammer against my skull. I groaned, pressing my palms against my temples, cursing under my breath. Why in the hell did I feel like this? My entire body felt exhausted, drained, and nauseous, like I'd been hit by a truck. I forced my eyes open, but the light streaming through the curtains only intensified the pain. God, how much did I drink last night?

And then it hit me…the celebration at the bar. I could vaguely remember the laughter, the clinking of glasses, and… When Alex showed up.

Wait. Alex?

I froze, my pulse quickening, when I heard footsteps. Slowly, I turned my head toward the sound, my heart practically leaping into my throat. The bathroom door creaked open, and I blinked, my mouth parting in utter horror as I saw him.

Alex… stepping out of the restroom, a towel casually tied around his waist, water droplets glistening on his bare, muscular chest.

He had that infuriating smirk plastered on his face as he leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. "You’re up."

I stared at him, completely losing my mind. This isn't happening. This cannot be happening.

"Alex," I stammered, my voice shaky as I frantically pulled the duvet up to my chest. My mind was racing a mile a minute. "What...what are you doing in my room?"

He raised an eyebrow, still smirking as if this was all some joke. "Relax. You look like you've been through all hell and back."

I couldn’t breathe. I glanced down at myself under the duvet, my hands trembling as I lifted the covers just enough to peek beneath them. My stomach twisted in knots. I was in nothing but my underwear. My heart nearly stopped.

"Oh my God." I gasped, the blood draining from my face. "Alex...did we…?" I couldn’t even finish the question, the words choking in my throat.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "No. Nothing happened, Christiana. Calm down."

I didn’t calm down. "Then why are you here?" I demanded, still feeling like I was on the verge of a complete meltdown. "And why am I…?"

"Because you were a drunken mess last night," Alex cut me off, his tone casual, almost teasing. He strolled across the room and sat on the edge of the bed. "You got smashed in front of your employees, cursed at me, and, well, I couldn't just leave you like that. You were in no condition to be alone. So, I brought you back to your suite."

My mind was spinning, trying to piece everything together. I could remember the celebration. I could remember him showing up. But after that? Nothing.

"And then?" I asked cautiously.

"And then," he said, "you puked all over me. And the floor. It was disgusting. I had no choice but to clean you up and take off that dress because it was completely covered in vomit." He pointed at my side of the bed, where the stained dress was tossed on the floor. "Don't worry, I didn’t touch you. I just cleaned up the mess and, well..." He gestured to his bare torso. "I had to ditch my clothes too."

My cheeks flushed with humiliation, the realization of what had happened crashing over me like a tidal wave. I’d gotten drunk in front of my staff. I’d cursed at Alex. I’d vomited all over him. And now, here he was, sitting in my room half-naked because he had no choice but to clean me up.

I buried my face in my hands. "Oh my God... I can't believe this."

"You should probably reconsider your alcohol tolerance next time," Alex said with a light chuckle, but his tone wasn’t mocking. He sounded almost...amused.

I peeked through my fingers at him, and for a split second, I saw something in his eyes. A softness. A gentleness. Like he hadn’t minded taking care of me. Like he didn’t hate me.

But still. I groaned. "I’ve humiliated myself, haven’t I? My employees...they’re never going to look at me the same way."