My billionaire husband spoils me too much novel Chapter 322

Looking at him, Christina breathed rapidly and wanted to ask him something.

However, he suddenly restrained all his anger. As if it was just an illusion. Patrick let go of her and turned to the bathroom.

Christina's heart skipped a beat and she immediately followed him. She reached out and grabbed his wrist anxiously, trying to follow it on. "You just said..."

"Scum."

Patrick didn't answer her question. Facing the mirror, he met her eyes with a serious expression. "I don't feel comfortable."

Christina felt like he was fooling with her.

She yelled at him anxiously. "I was asking you what you just said..."

"Shave for me and I'll tell you." He was calm.

Christina did not understand what was going on with him. Just now, he was clearly furious. Suddenly, he pretended that nothing had happened.

She became serious and looked deeply into his deep eyes, which were as dark as an abyss, incomprehensible.

"I don't have a razor." In the end, she shouted in frustration.

"I have one upstairs."

He took out a key from his pocket, put it on her palm, and said in a brisk tone, "Go get it now. Christina, remember to go back." He didn't forget to remind her.

Holding the key to Apartment 502, Christina saw him rest by the bed with his eyes closed. He was handsome. He seemed leisurely as if he was waiting for her to serve him.

He did not live in the huge Morning Hillside Villa, ignoring many servants, and insisted on living upstairs to annoy her.

"I don't understand. Why do you have to live in this small apartment?" She turned around angrily.

"It's all because you chose this stupid place."

The voice behind her had become even more hoarse because of illness, sounded annoyed, as if Patrick disliked it.

Christina was upset and she didn't hear what he was saying angrily. She slammed the door close and went upstairs to Apartment 502 to find a razor.

Just as she slammed the door, Patrick stood up and his face became much colder.

He walked to the counter, picked up the box of antipyretic, took two pills, threw them into his mouth, and swallowed them.

Patrick hated medicine.

In the past week, he kept changing planes. He worked overtime, stayed up late and was tired.

The first thing he wanted to do when he returned home was to look for her.

This strong feeling of concern and yearning was strange, and the more he wanted it, the more uneasy he became.

He walked around this small apartment filled with her breath and he was bored. So he casually opened the drawers, and the wardrobe, rummaging through her things, as if it was fun.

Maybe he was sick. He shouldn't have said that to her.

Christina quickly found his razor from Apartment 502 upstairs. Her mind was occupied with what he had said. She rushed back to question him immediately.

But as soon as she entered, she saw the man rummaging through her closet. She was surprised and then became angry, "Hey, why did you throw that coat into the trash can?"

Patrick looked unhappy and turned to look at her.

He replied coldly, "I don't like it."

He was not ashamed. Christina quickly ran over to pick up the black men's coat from the trash can. The corner of it was wrinkled.