Lizetta sadly realized that no matter how cool and indifferent she tried to appear on the surface, her


    heart still skipped a beat and raced whenever Remington said something like that. She couldn’t help


    but wonder if maybe, just maybe, he didn’tpletelyck affection for her


    But she quickly snapped out of it, biting her lip. She bitterly thought to herself that it was all just


    Remington’s possessiveness rearing its ugly head. Even though she was his ex–wife, the woman he


    had cast aside, he couldn’t stand the thought of someone else getting their hands on her.


    He had always been this domineering, and his assets only fueled his arrogance. What he said had


    nothing to do with love, really. If she took it seriously, she’d be the joke of the century.


    Still, with Remington acting like this, Lizetta couldn’t help but worry about whether she’d be able to


    leave the country smoothly the next day.


    In the room.


    Fiona was speechless for a moment, then burst intoughter. The usually graceful matriarch let loose


    some choice words, “Bullshit! The divorce is almost final, and you want to mess with Liz’s second shot


    at happiness, hold her back for life? Get lost, just get the hell out of here!”


    Fiona swung her cane, chasing after Remington tond another hit.


    As themotion headed towards the door, Lizetta instinctively pushed it open.


    Little did she know that Fiona was aiming this way, and as Remington dodged, the cane came


    swooping down from the heavens straight for Lizetta’s face.


    Lizetta closed her eyes in fright, but the expected pain never arrived.


    Instead, she found herself wrapped up in the familiar and warm embrace of a man, protected so tightly


    not even air could get through.


    The thud of the cane’s impact sounded, and the man’s thin lips buried into the nape of Lizetta’s neck


    with a low grunt.


    The heat and the sound of his grunt swirled into her ears, tickling her silly.


    Lizetta’s ears turned an inappropriately bright shade of red.


    “Are you okay?”


    She immediately pushed Remington away in a flurry, checking on him.


    Content protected by N?v/el(D)rama.Org.


    She didn’t know where Fiona’s hit hadnded on Remington–worried it might have been his head.


    But as if worrying summoned the problem, Remington clutched the back of his head, looking slightly


    pained.


    Lizetta’s cup of tea had also spilled all over his chest, ruining his white shirt and steaming up a storm.


    Seeing this, Fiona’s heart softened despite herself, threw down her cane, and waved her hand


    dismissively.


    “Liz, just take him out and clean him up, will you? The guy’s not exactly emotionally intelligent–don’t let


    him turn into an idiot.”


    Lizetta nodded busily, “Grandma, you rest for a bit, don’t worry. I’lle backter to chat with you.”


    She led Remington out, not far to their bedroom that Fiona had reserved for them in the family


    mansion. Lizetta helped Remington into the room, had him sit on the sofa, and anxiously began to


    check the injury on his head.


    “Don’t cover it, it’ll only swell up more. Are you bleeding?”


    She pried Remington’s hand from the back of his head, frantically searching through his thick, soft hair.


    At that moment, his luscious locks were a curse, making the search for the wound all the more difficult.


    Lizetta fretted and asked again.


    “How do you feel now? Where exactly is it? I can’t seem to find it.”


    Remington, supporting his forehead, leaned back on the sofa. “Dizzy and nauseous.”


    After he said that, his body swayed, and his handsome facended right on Lizetta’s belly, arms


    wrapping around her waist.


    The soft touch of his face against her stomach was an indescribably tender moment, the closest he’d


    been to her baby.


    Lizetta froze, as if under a spell, unable to speak, even her breathing went quiet.


    “You don’t have a concussion, do you?”


    “It’s possible. How about you help me to the bed, and stick around while I lie down for a bit?”


    7


    Remington’s forehead rubbed against Lizetta’s belly, his voice deep and slow.


    Lizetta suspected the man was ying coy, because he was acting just like Joseph had when he


    insisted on staying over at her ce


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    one night.


    She nced at his messy head of hair again and, with gritted teeth, said.


    “Fine, I’ll help you up.”