Game of Love and Deception: The Billionaire's Ex Wife
Chapter 81: It’s different now

Chapter 81: It’s different now

"I’m going to bite your chest if you don’t drop me this minute," she threatened again.

Lorenzo only chuckled in response—so she bit him.

"Ow, stop it. That hurts," he winced, but instead of letting her go, he tightened his arms around her, folding her so securely against himself that she couldn’t move.

Ashley struggled... and failed.

"You’re going to regret this!"

"Judging by how helpless you look right now, I doubt I’d regret anything anytime soon," Lorenzo teased, and she cursed under her breath.

Trapped against him, completely enveloped by the sweet, masculine scent of his body, she forced herself to channel her energy into fighting the unwanted desire blooming inside her. The heat of his body, the comfort—it was doing things to her feminine part she didn’t want to acknowledge.

Just then, they entered the living room, still occupied by his friends and Genevieve, who were now arguing loudly about something Ashley didn’t quite catch. The girl’s voice was the loudest. Judging by how classy she’d looked earlier, she never expected she’d be so loud.

Embarrassed beyond reason, Ashley buried her face into Lorenzo’s chest, praying no one noticed them. To her relief, the group was too engrossed in their drama.

With an amused expression, Lorenzo began climbing the stairs, carrying her with a firm yet surprisingly gentle grip, like he instinctively knew how to hold her without causing discomfort.

Ashley kept her eyes shut, listening to the rapid beat of his heart, until they stopped moving. When she opened her eyes, she realized they were back inside his room.

Lorenzo finally set her down. She instantly shot him a furious glare and shoved his chest, but he easily caught her hand.

The touch of his warm, slightly sweaty palm on her bare skin sent an unwelcome tingle through her.

"I’m sorry. Are you hurt?" he asked softly, like he hadn’t just dragged her back here against her wish. His gaze made her knees weak.

Ashley desperately wanted to stay angry at him, but it was getting harder by the second.

Pathetic, isn’t it?

"You’re so annoying!" she spat, yanking her hand free and moving past him to sit stiffly on the bed.

The moment her body touched the soft mattress, a vivid memory of waking up with her hand on Lorenzo’s dick that morning flashed through her mind, and her cheeks flushed scarlet. Why was every damn thing stirring a memory?

Their eyes met again.

This time, Lorenzo looked almost sulky, maybe hurt that she’d shouted at him. Oddly, she felt a pang of guilt.

She quickly looked away.

He went to turn on the TV, dropping the remote on the bed beside her.

"You’ve still not had breakfast. Is there anything I can get you?"

"I’m fine," she replied flatly.

"Ashley," he called again.

"I said I’m..."

"Please," he interrupted, his voice so gentle.

Ashley swallowed a sudden lump, feeling her resistance crack like glass. Something was definitely wrong with her. Maybe she was getting sick in the brain. And it was making her spineless.

She felt the crease in her forehead ease, despite not wanting it to, and cursed silently before agreeing.

"I’ll just have whatever is available."

Lorenzo offered a nod, and left the room, with a proud grin.

She shut her eyes, heart pounding as she replayed everything that had just happened.

Lorenzo barely lifted a finger and here she was—melting like a puddle of ice cream. She was supposed to give him a hard time for forcefully keeping her here. But how was she supposed to do that now, when he seemed to know exactly which button to press and when?

A shiver ran down her spine as she realized just how easily he could sway her. She had to find a way to escape this place as soon as possible.

The TV show playing didn’t interest her, so she stood up and began looking around, taking her time to admire the beautiful paintings hanging on the walls.

Recalling how Lorenzo had always obsessed over art in the past, she wasn’t surprised by the different masterpieces adorning his room now.

She was so lost staring at a painting of a lady holding a melting flaming candle—wondering what it meant—that she didn’t notice Lorenzo return.

"You like that?"

She turned around, startled.

She wasn’t sure if it was the voice, the art, or the artist that made her heart beat faster.

Her eyes flicked to the tray of covered plates on the bed, then back to Lorenzo.

"I see you’re still obsessed. They’re beautiful," she said.

"Thank you," he replied with a smile.

"Do you still paint?"

Lorenzo nodded, hands slipping into his pockets. "I painted most of the ones you’re seeing."

Ashley’s jaw dropped.

"Wow!" she exclaimed, genuinely surprised at how good he’d become. Nine years ago, he’d still been an amateur.

"Yeah."

A brief pause, then he added,

"You know, I still regret not getting the chance to paint you back then."

Their gazes lingered.

"But maybe it was for the best," he continued. "I doubt I could’ve done justice to this beauty..."

Ashley felt her heart do a somersault.

Then, his voice dropped, his stare intensifying. "It’s different now."

Was he suggesting he wanted to paint her? Did she want that? She hated that she even had to think about it.

She remembered how they had planned for him to paint her after her sixteenth birthday, once the new tools he ordered arrived. But that day never came. Lorenzo left before then. Painting her now would stir too much memories.

Forcing a smile, Ashley decided to steer the conversation elsewhere.

"I should eat before it gets cold," she said, breaking eye contact. Lorenzo saw what she did, but didn’t push it.

She walked over to the bed, sat down, and lifted the lid off the plate—her stomach instantly responding to the sight of steaming spaghetti Bolognese and shredded turkey.

The aroma was mouthwatering. She couldn’t help but wonder if it had been prepared by Renee or Lorenzo himself. Considering how long he’d been gone, and how slightly sweaty he looked... maybe he had.

Lorenzo sank into the couch at the corner of the room, silently watching her as she ate.

Halfway through the meal, his phone rang. He answered quickly, brow furrowed as he listened intently to whoever was on the other end.

"Is something wrong?" Ashley asked once he got off the call, concerned.

"Just need to check the news," he said, walking over to grab the remote from beside her.

Ashley paused, her fork suspended mid-air. Something felt off.

She watched as he switched to the Imelda Rose gossip channel—and there it was. Christian’s face filled the screen, mid-interview.

Her heart skipped a beat, though she couldn’t quite explain why. But nothing involving Christian was ever good.

Her eyes flicked between the TV and Lorenzo’s tense posture. She pushed the tray aside, her appetite vanishing, wondering what was going on.

She was just about to speak when Christian said something that made her head snap back to the screen—shock flashing across her face.