Chapter 32

hapter 32 Chapter 32 A long arm intercepted Ann Maxwell’s near–collapse onto Evan.“Ann Maxwell, I know you’re not drunk. Stop. pretending!” His patience had run out; his anger was undisguised.

Ann opened her eyes, her gaze clear, yet tinged with resentment. “Is that how it is?” she countered.

“That’s “my line,” Evan’s voice was cold, brooking no argument. “Either sit properly, or get out of the car!”

The driver didn’t dare breathe. I risked a glance in the rearview mirror. Ann stubbornly stared, her eyes misting, fighting back tears.

“Stop the car!” she shouted.

Menu The driver, naturally, didn’t dare. He only took orders from Evan. Worried she’d do something reckless, I urged the driver to lock the doors. Sure enough, Ann tried to yank the handle.

Even with Ann’s dangerous antics, Evan remained impassive, utterly detached.

“You hate me so much...” Ann broke down, curling up, burying her face in her knees, her sorrow palpable.

Her sobs reminded me of my own past heartaches. I sighed, pulling out a tissue and quietly offered it to her.

“Ms. Frost!” Evan frowned at me.

I quickly retracted my hand. Humph, men are all the same! Either cheating on their wives or cold and heartless!

Evan, seeing my indignant expression, actually smiled.

The car arrived at the hotel. Evan got out, walking away without a backward glance. He really *was* leaving her! I sighed, turning to Ann.“Ms. Maxwell, let me get you a room.”

Ann lowered her gaze, silent for a long moment before murmuring, “No need for a separate room. I’ll stay in yours.”

“Okay,” I agreed. There was another bed in the suite anyway.

Entering the room, I noticed the woman who’d been practically comatose from drunkenness was now walking perfectly steadily.

She’d been faking it!

Ann said she wanted a bath. I quickly protested, “You can’t bathe after drinking. Let me get you some honey water.”

She ignored me, heading straight for the bathroom. I blocked her. “If anything happens to you, how am I going to explain it to the President? I don’t believe you don’t know you shouldn’t bathe after drinking. This is self–abuse!”

My words hit home, and Ann’s eyes welled up again. I took advantage of the moment to guide her onto the sofa. This icy beauty was even more self–pitying than a melodramatic heroine....

I called the hotel concierge to send up some honey water. Before I could hang up, my phone rang. It was Evan. I glanced at Ann on the sofa, guessing he’d softened after his anger subsided, checking on the situation.

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