President’s Secret Obsession With Ex-wife

Nick didn’t answer her back, a sudden dryness rising in his chest, a depression within.

Yesterday he was planted by her dog and as a result a stranger misunderstood and scolded him.

And today paint was thrown on him at Hopmeadow Downs in the middle of the night. For a split second Nick had a hard time not believing that he didn’t owe this woman something in the past life.

Victoria looked at the man’s distinctly cold face and realized that she wasn’t hallucinating all of this.

She also knew she was in trouble and could only try to remedy the situation, hastily saying, “Does Mr. Andrews have any spare clothes? Change out of this one, I’ll help you wash it.”

Nick glanced at the paint tray she held in her hand and turned to take a few steps.

Victoria stood still and did cringe a little at why this kind of thing happened every time she met him.

Nick saw that she wasn’t following and said in a hushed voice, “Why are you standing there, not washing? Since you splashed it, you’re responsible.”

Victoria followed quickly, “I’m not trying to avoid responsibility.”

“Eighty thousand.”

His tone was light, his gaze falling on her face.

Victoria didn’t react to what it meant for a moment and froze for a moment before realizing it was the price of the shirt.

She was a bit dumbfounded, as she had never worn such expensive clothes in her life.

She didn’t know if she could wash it clean later when it was like this….

She was a little weak and could only say weakly, “I made sure to use very light force when I rubbed my hands together.”

Nick looked at her submissive look and narrowed his eyes as he inexplicably remembered her other face at the gaming table back at Weston Kingsley.

He walked back to his room, and Declan, who was waiting nearby for him to return, was just about to say hello when he saw Victoria behind him again, and his pupils shrank, and he consciously looked for an opportunity to slip away.

Nick went in, unbuttoned his shirt all the way and tossed it to Victoria as soon as he could.

Victoria had just stepped inside when she felt a piece of clothing come over her face.

She blushed and hastily removed it, the remaining light surveying the room. But immediately afterward, her eyes didn’t move.

Nick just wore that shirt, and at the moment when he took it off, the upper half of his body was naked. And now with his back to her, she could see his broad shoulders and narrow waist. He had a really good figure, and his legs were very slender, which was definitely the golden ratio in terms of fine arts.

She couldn’t help but fix her eyes on it, seeing that his butterfly bones were also long and beautiful, every inch looking like it had been carefully polished.

She couldn’t help but sigh. This man, he was really a favorite of the heavens.

Nick was just about to open his locker to find new clothes when he felt a burning sight behind him.

He frowned and turned to Victoria.

Victoria’s eyes were still on his waistline, mermaid lines, abs, everything.

It was not enough to say the golden ratio, which was more standard than top male models in art material.

She was so mesmerized by it that she was already even thinking about where she would start if she drew it.

Only to hear a deep male voice ask, “Seen enough?”

It wasn’t the first time Nick had asked that, he’d asked it the last time Victoria had stared at his hand in disbelief.

Victoria shook her head honestly.Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

Nick was rather amused again to see her so honest.

But thinking about the fact that she was married, such behavior felt more than a little strange.

He quickly grabbed a shirt and put it on, his tone becoming unfriendly.

“Still not going?”

Victoria reacted and after receiving his clothes, it was time to go.

“Mr. Andrews, good night.”

Nick wasn’t the least bit interested in why she was here. But in turn, this was a complete loss of the idea of going out for a stroll.

Victoria was holding the shirt and was about to go out, but noticed she had just met him since he raised his hand from time to time to rub his temples, and she knew that he had probably had a few more drinks, causing a headache at the moment.

When her father’s company was just starting out, Daniel had so many social engagements all day long that every time he came back with a headache, his mom would prepare a sobering soup and give him a massage.

Then Mom left and it became her who learned to do these things.

Out of habit, what she said next was a bit of a no-brainer.

“Mr. Andrews, would you like me to give you a massage?”