Chapter 8
The bedroom was silent.
Neither of them said a word.
Liam stood on the balcony, phone pressed to his ear as he spoke to Chloe.
It had been half an hour of coaxing, her soft sniffles and muffled cries occasionally filtering through the open door. And yet, Liam remained patient, his tone low and soothing, as though nothing could shake his resolve to comfort her.
Scarlett couldn’t help but think back to when they were dating.
Liam had never been this patient with her.
They had known each other too long, grown up too close for him to ever treat her like someone who needed coddling.
She remembered the first time he tried to kiss her.
His ears had turned bright red, and she couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
“Scarlett Westwood, what’s so funny?” teenage Liam had grumbled, his voice thick with embarrassment.
“I was just thinking about that time in kindergarten,” she’d teased.
“We were raiding that beehive, and you got stung on the lips. You looked like a little piggy with those sausage lips–and don’t get me started on your
ears!”
Her laughter had been so contagious, she’d doubled over, clutching her stomach.
Liam, on the other hand, had been mortified.
After that, he never made another move to kiss her.
They’d dated for two years, and somehow, she’d never even had a proper first kiss.
Thinking about it now, Scarlett couldn’t help but find it tragically absurd.
If she hadn’t met him, she might have made it to 23 without ever knowing what it was like to be kissed.
The thought of him–his devastatingly beautiful face, the way he’d kissed her with a passion that bordered on sinful–flashed across her mind.
He’d always felt like some sort of reincarnated trickster god, seducing her soul with every glance and touch.
Scarlett let out a soft laugh at the memory,
It had only been three hours since she ended things with him, and already, she missed him.
Her fingers drifted toward her phone.
Scrolling through her contacts, she found the number saved under the simple nickname, “Pretty Boy.”
She paused, staring at the screen.
It suddenly struck her how absurd it was–she had spent three years with this man, shared a bed with him countless times, and yet she didn’t even know his real name.
21:24
From Mafia Mistress to Billionaire’s Wife–Same Day, Different Groom
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Chapter 8
Not that it was entirely her fault.
They’d always met under cover of night, their encounters swift and charged.
Names hadn’t mattered when every meeting skipped straight to the point.
By the time things got intense, all they ever called each other were things like “baby” or “darling.”
The realization hit her: she was the kind of person who didn’t even ask for a name before getting involved.
God, I’m a terrible person, she thought with a wry smile.
As she sat there, lost in thought, her phone suddenly buzzed.
The caller ID lit up: Pretty Boy.
Scarlett stared at it for a few seconds, her thumb hovering over the screen.
Then, with a resigned sigh, she answered.
“It’s only been a few hours. Miss me already?”
Her voice was honey–sweet, tinged with just enough teasing to make it almost unbearable.
The other end of the line was silent for a beat before a low, restrained voice broke through.
“Where are you right now?”
“At home,” she replied casually, her fingers idly twisting a lock of her hair.
“Come to Greenview Villa. Now.”
3
Scarlett’s voice remained light, almost bored.
“I can’t. I told you already, my husband’s back. Tonight, I’m playing the good wife.”
“Scarlett Westwood, you’re not allowed to sleep with him,” the man’s voice cracked, the slightest hint of desperation slipping through his usual calm.
Scarlett laughed softly, her tone still dripping with amusement.
“Oh, stop being ridiculous. If you’re that unhappy with the breakup terms, I can throw in a shop or two.”
“That way, you won’t have to keep working at that club.”
“Scarlett, it’s not about the money,” his voice dropped, tight with suppressed emotion.
“Don’t you want to know who I really am?”
