The One He Dismissed Became The One He Died For novel Chapter 243

With her toenails painted a dusty rose, Claire lazily dragged her smooth, bare foot against the collar of his dress shirt.

Miles Zimmerman went stiff. His fingers tightened around her other ankle, his throat bobbing as he issued a low warning, "Stop it."

"I'm not doing anything. My foot is tired, can't I just rest it on you?"

A wicked, teasing smile danced in Claire's eyes.

"You're being the ultimate devoted husband applying my medicine so attentively. I'm just playing along. Do you mind?"

"I don't mind."

Miles turned his head, his gaze turning predatory. He reached up, grasping the foot resting on his shoulder, and gently kneaded the skin with his thumb.

"I didn't know you were into this kind of thing. We can take our time playing when we get home."

"We'll play until you're completely satisfied."

A thick, seductive tension filled the private lounge.

"You... wolf!" Claire's face flushed hot. She kicked at him, about to pull her foot back.

Suddenly, the lounge door burst open from the outside.

A heavy-set man stumbled in, visibly drunk, spewing foul words.

"An abandoned wife kicked out by the Zimmerman family, and she still tries to act high and mighty in front of us."

"Exactly. She wants us to clean up OCHH Luxury's mess? I wouldn't touch it even if you paid me double."

"What a buzzkill. But that tiny waist of hers is distracting—you could snap it with one hand..."

Lucas Lambert was trailed by a red-faced executive named Mr. Gates and a few others, having clearly stumbled into the wrong room.

Their shameless, crude remarks made Miles's expression instantly turn freezing cold.

The executives looked up, saw the scene before them, and froze in unison.

The air in the room stagnated.

Weren't they divorced? Wasn't she cast aside?

Then why was Miles kneeling on one knee before Claire, while she rested a foot on his shoulder? The famously stoic and aloof heir of the Zimmerman family showed no displeasure whatsoever; he was holding her foot, his eyes brimming with absolute indulgence.

The men sobered up in an instant.

Lucas stumbled, face-planting onto the floor before Mr. Gates barely managed to haul him up.

Miles didn't rise. He turned his head and swept a glance over them, looking at them like they were trash.

He lowered his head and went back to massaging the medicinal oil into her swollen ankle. His movements were gentle and meticulous, finishing it off by wrapping a simple bandage around the joint.

Miles stood up. "Don't put any weight on this foot yet. I'll help you walk."

Claire turned her head to refuse. "I don't need it."

But the man forcefully took her by the arm, led her out of the lounge, and pushed open the door to her original private dining room.

The same executives who had been so arrogant just moments ago were now huddled in the corner, looking terrified and pale.

Seeing the man who walked in with Claire, the bosses turned completely ashen. They scrambled out of their seats, bowing in greeting with a pathetic display of submission.

Miles ignored them completely.

Betty Wade sat on the other side of the table, several empty glasses lined up in front of her. It was obvious she had been forced to drink after Claire left!

Seeing Claire return, Betty's eyes immediately reddened. Tears threatened to spill, and she looked endlessly wronged.

"Claire, they... they said if I drank these, they would sign with us and take the two hundred thousand orders."

"I drank them all, but they went back on their word..."

The anger Claire had been suppressing instantly surged into a raging inferno.