Game of Love and Deception: The Billionaire's Ex Wife
Chapter 76: Raw and desperate

Chapter 76: Raw and desperate

As soon as Lorenzo mentioned Ashley’s daughter’s name, she froze.

A pang shot through his chest, and the silence between them instantly turned heavy—almost suffocating. He could almost feel the change in her heartbeat.

Slowly, she lifted her gaze to meet his. She didn’t say a word, but her eyes, those expressive, pain-filled eyes, spoke volumes.

He recognized that look; it was the same one she wore last night at his clubhouse, drowning herself in alcohol. He hadn’t asked her about it yet, but deep down, he suspected it all tied back to her daughter.

"He... he found something?" she asked softly, her voice trembling.

Lorenzo nodded and finally released her. "Yeah."

She was no longer defiant, no longer ready to burst his balls—and he instantly missed that part of her.

Ashley’s face lit up slightly, a sad smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Where is he? Can we go meet him now?" she asked, a hint of eagerness creeping into her tone.

Lorenzo exhaled and took a few steps back. "Carl is downstairs, but... you might want to freshen up first. Your hair’s messy, and you still smell like alcohol."

Ashley’s brows drew together in a frown. She sniffed herself, and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He was right.

He could’ve bathed her last night, but knowing this woman, she wouldn’t have seen it as an act of care. In fact, she probably wouldn’t have hesitated to parade his head on a plate this morning.

"I can manage. I’ll stay a few feet away from him. I don’t think he’ll notice," she mumbled.

If the situation hadn’t been so serious, Lorenzo might’ve laughed.

"If you listen closely, you’ll hear people shouting. Carl’s not alone—he’s with some other of my friends," he explained.

Ashley’s face fell.

He could easily go downstairs and send every one of them away, but he still didn’t want her stepping out reeking of alcohol.

"I don’t have anything to change into, even if I do take a bath," she murmured.

"Don’t worry about that. I’ll get you something. The bathroom’s that way," Lorenzo said, motioning toward it.

She followed the direction of his finger, then returned her gaze to him.

"Do you want to use another room?" Lorenzo asked quickly, afraid she might back out.

Ashley hesitated for a moment before replying, "I’ll just use this. Thank you."

Without another word, she hurried past him and disappeared into the bathroom, the door clicking shut and locking a second later.

Lorenzo shook his head, half amused. He made his way to Genevieve’s room—the master suite she’d claimed for herself whenever she dropped by uninvited. After rummaging through her overflowing wardrobe, he pulled out a yellow sundress he thought would suit his little tigress.

His gaze lingered on the stuffed wardrobe for a moment. How many years would it take Genevieve to wear everything in there? Yet she never misses a chance to drain his account and buy more. It baffled him.

Back in his room, he knocked on the door. When there was no response, he pushed it open gently. The sound of running water filled the space, sending unholy pictures to his mind.

He shut his eyes and opened them again, trying to banish the image of Ashley’s naked body from his head—but his thoughts refused to cooperate.

He placed the dress on the bed, torn between leaving the room, staying, or going to join her. Ashley might’ve locked the door from the inside, but he could still open it with a remote if he wanted. But knowing her, she might strangle him before he even made it halfway through the bathroom. Or worse—she might freak out, and he’d end up hating himself more than he already did.

Strangled or die of self-loathing?

No joining her, he concluded.

He raked a hand through his hair and sat on the bed.

Sharing the same bed with her last night had been nothing short of torture. But he hadn’t had a choice—he couldn’t leave her alone after the nightmare.

Her soft snores, the way she kept snuggling closer, and then—God help him—the moment she’d grabbed his crotch. He had no idea how he’d truly survived without doing something reckless. Somehow, he’d lived through, even with the primal desires that kept clawing at him.

It had been a miracle that he didn’t go nuts.

And now, she didn’t even remember most of it... aside from that awkward moment when she’d still been holding his dick as she woke up.

An instinctive smile spread through his lips. Her reaction had been both hilarious and cute.

He found himself wondering what it would be like if she ever fell for him again. No animosity, no resistance, no walls–just like the first time. The thought brightened the smile on his face.

He’d been a coward once—running away thinking he was protecting her. And in the end, she’d landed in the monstrous hands of Christian Harrington, of all people.

Charlotte. Charlotte.

He sighed, palming his face as the name echoed in his mind like a haunting song.

With another sigh, he stood up, and paced the room.

The only reason he hadn’t paid that old lag a long-overdue visit all these years was because he believed she was Ashley’s only surviving relative. And despite being the devil in human form, he hadn’t wanted to take that away from his sunshine.

But now that her grandparents were in the picture?

He no longer had any use for the old witch.

Just then, the sound of water stopped. Lorenzo’s heart skipped. He quickly rushed out of the room to preserve whatever shred of sanity he had left. He shut the door quietly, careful not to let Ashley realize he’d been inside the whole time. He needed her to feel safe. Comfortable.

He headed to the balcony, putting distance between himself and the noise drifting up from downstairs—his friends still arguing passionately over a football match. Their voices, especially Carl’s, were loud enough to tempt him into going down and throwing them out. But he held himself. Carl still had something important to share with Ashley, and as much as it annoyed him, he couldn’t afford to miss it. Even so, he still found it ridiculous that Carl hadn’t just texted what he’d discovered.

Trying to ignore the chaos, his mind wandered back to last night; finding Ashley in that damned clubhouse.

After countless unanswered calls, worry had clawed at his chest. Desperate, he’d driven to her office, even though it was already late, only to find it dark and locked. Then he’d gone to the Flynn mansion, where he was told she still hadn’t returned from work.

For someone with ties to a dangerous drug cartel, keeping his composure, even in the most threatening situations—was second nature. But last night, he’d lost it with terrifying ease.

He was about to call a search party when Carl finally texted—a photo of Ashley entering Vortex. He made it there in under five minutes, a drive that should’ve taken fifteen. And there she was. Drunk. Broken. Swaying to some slow, melancholic song.

If it had been anyone else, he might have been furious. But it was Ashley—and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t summon the anger. Not for her.

Then came the kiss.

It was brief—a fleeting brush before he managed to stop her. But damn, it had left him completely breathless. And with it, he buried any remaining shred of frustration, locking it away where it couldn’t touch her.

No matter how many times he got to kiss her, he doubted he’d ever get used to the taste of those lips. It was heaven.

He still congratulated himself for stopping when he did. Because he knew—deep down—they would’ve crossed a line she wasn’t ready for.

A smile tugged at his lips as he absentmindedly touched his lips, reliving the moment.

Seeing her that vulnerable had revealed something to him. Alcohol may have clouded her mind, but her heart had been wide open. In those hazy moments, he saw truths she would never say out loud. Truths usually hidden beneath the fierce mask she always put on.

Her eyes last night reflected all her longings. Most, at least.

Raw and desperate. She still wanted to be loved. Fully. Fearlessly. Completely. But fear coiled around that need like armor, so tightly wrapped she might not even realize it was there.

Or maybe she did. Maybe she just couldn’t bring herself to admit it—not to herself, not to anyone.

Given everything she’d endured, her fear made perfect sense to him. And it only strengthened his resolve—to stay. To be more than just an ally. To be her home. Her peace. The one who would weather every storm by her side until she realized she no longer had to fight alone.

The one she didn’t even know she needed.

And he didn’t care how long it took her to figure that out. Years? Decades? No amount of time would ever be too much.

The soft sound of the door opening pulled Lorenzo back to the present.

He cleared his throat, then turned and walked back inside.

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