How to Train Your Ex-Billionaire novel Chapter 133

Seeing Yvan suddenly appear and douse Winifred in wine, Monica frowned from a distance and hurried over. "Oh, Winifred, dear, you're soaked! You must go upstairs and change before you leave."

"That's not necessary," Winifred said, shaking her head. "I was just heading home anyway..."

"Nonsense! It's too cold out," Monica insisted, taking her hand. "We have rooms upstairs. My daughter, Yetta, brought a spare outfit; I'll have her bring it to you. As for you, Mr. Turner, perhaps it's best if you head off."

"I'm in no rush. I'll wait for Ms. Spencer here," Owen said, gently touching Winifred's shoulder. "Ms. Spencer, Mrs. Brown is right. You should go change before you catch a chill."

Yvan's expression was thunderous.

Owen pretended to have just noticed him. "Well, well, Mr. Brown. Long time no see."

Yvan shot him a cold look but didn't bother to reply.

Monica shot her son a pointed look. "Yvan, go find your sister and tell her to bring an outfit to the second floor for Winifred. I'm taking her up now."

Look at how smooth Owen is, Monica fumed internally. Why is this blockhead son of mine just standing there like a statue? He's infuriating!

Yvan shot a warning glare at Owen before turning to leave.

And so Winifred was led by Monica to a bedroom on the second floor. Monica told her to wait inside and then left.

The moment she was out, she called Yvan. "Yvan, Winifred is in the middle bedroom on the second floor. I've created the opportunity for you. If you don't seize it now, you can just watch your girlfriend get stolen away."

"Let him take her then. It's not like she's the only woman in the world," Yvan retorted, but even as he spoke, he was already heading upstairs with the change of clothes Yetta had just handed him.

"You stubborn boy, you're all talk! If you didn't care, why would you spill wine all over her?"

Monica knew her son inside and out. She'd given birth to him, after all. He could talk tough, but he had a soft heart.

He acted cold, but he cared more than anyone.

Yvan didn't say another word. He hung up and was about to head up the stairs when he saw his mother coming down.

Her camisole and bra were damp, too. Yvan's glass had been full, and he'd practically aimed it right at her chest. It was cold, and the wet fabric clinging to her skin was incredibly uncomfortable.

Trying to be quick, Winifred went into the en-suite bathroom, stripped off her camisole and bra, and started drying them with the hairdryer.

She figured Yetta wouldn't be bringing her a new set of lingerie.

Just then, a knock came at the door. Assuming it was Yetta, she turned off the hairdryer, opened the bathroom door just a crack, and called out, "Come in."

Yvan walked in, holding the bag of clothes.

Winifred was so startled to see him that she slammed the bathroom door shut.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her heart pounding as she clutched her chest, terrified of what he might have seen.

Yvan hadn't actually seen anything, but he had a very good idea of what was going on.