“What’s the matter, Caite?”
While Sasha and Roxanne’s assistant were in a stalemate at the door, Roxanne was just done showering in the villa. Hearing the commotion outside, she hollered from upstairs.
Only then did the assistant snap back to her senses and hastened back into the house.
A few minutes later, Sasha, who had been waiting at the door, was finally led into the house.
“I’m really surprised that you would come to pick him up.”
When Sasha again saw Roxanne, the latter was only wearing a bathrobe, with her long and velvety chestnut hair casually draped over her shoulder. She sashayed over with two glasses of red wine before placing one of them before Sasha.
Then, she languid savored the other glass herself.
Nevertheless, Sasha didn’t pick up the glass of wine. Ever since she entered the house, her gaze had been darting around in search of the man she was here for.
Alas, she saw no sign of him anywhere.
“Why are you surprised? Isn’t it normal for me to come and pick him up?”
“Of course not. Firstly, the two of you aren’t truly husband and wife. And secondly, I’ll drive him back myself. Ms. Wand, my relationship with him is far more intimate than you think.”
Roxanne was exceedingly blunt. Not only did she immediately refute Sasha, but she even deliberately mentioned the word “intimate.”
All at once, Sasha’s face went pale.
What the hell? So, she actually knows that we’re not truly husband and wife? Also, why did she suddenly mention that word? Could it be that she spotted me on the third floor when she came over this morning?
Out of the blue, she recalled the rumor she heard during her childhood of Roxanne being a “prodigy.” As she locked gazes with the woman’s mocking eyes, she abruptly felt as though she had been stripped naked.
Utter mortification engulfed her.
“Are you spying on me?”
“You read too much into things. Why should I spy on you? Your emotions are written all over your face. Look, you’re not even really here to pick him up tonight. The truth is, you’re merely using that as an excuse to confront me, no?”
Stunned, Sasha said nothing to Roxanne’s psychoanalysis of her motives.
With a wine glass in her hand, Roxanne then continued languidly, “You want to ask me why I called you a ticking time bomb back then. Besides, you also want to know what exactly my relationship with him is. Is that not so?”
It was terrifying to the bone, yet she sounded as though she was casually making conversation at that moment.
By then, Sasha’s face had lost all color.
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