In a four-eyed exchange, he guided her gaze downward to his abdomen.
๐€โถล๏ฝแปืฉ๏ผฅ๐๏ฝ.ฤ๐๐ช
Millie’s hand was ensnared and guided toward his midsection, nearly coming into contact. Comprehending his insinuation, she promptly withdrew her hand.
In a burst of anger, she exclaimed, “You bastardl!”
Her cheeks flushed scarlet, a manifestation of her ire.
๊งเผโฌ๐๐ฎ๐ช๐ป๐๐ธ๐ฟ๐ฎ๐ต๐ผ.๐๐ธ๐ถโฌเผ๊ง
A smile crept onto Marcus’ lips. Only in the face of Millie could he show this ludicrous gesture.
“My body is solely reserved for you and no one else. The rest hold no allure.
Don’t be vexed. Let’s return home.”
Millie stared at him, rendered momentarily speechless.
“Are you feeling unwell?”
Millie’s gaze lingered on Marcus’ face once again.
She sensed an unusual pallor to his complexion, an inkling that something was amiss.
A subtle tension tinged Marcus’ frame as he clenched his fists and shook his head.
“Step into the car; we’re headed home,” Marcus suggested, his tone holding a note of urgency.
Millie harbored skepticism but refrained from delving further into her thoughts.
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With that, the car embarked on its journey.
Meanwhile, Kaya remained rooted, her legs quivering in the chilly night breeze.
Back at the villa, Marcus strode into the hall, while Millie veered in the opposite direction toward the kitchen.
Narrowing his eyes, Marcus pondered, how had Kaya discerned his whereabouts?
He grabbed his phone and dialed Derek’s number.
Derek picked me up promptly.
“Mr. Thomas, has the dinner concluded? I can come pick you up right away.”
Simultaneously, a pained, agonizing cry resounded from the other end of the phone—a male voice in evident distress.
Marcus furrowed his brow. “Where are you?”
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