Love On Ice: Don’t Leave Me, My Charming Liar

Chapter 20: "You... you," she sobbed, her voice trembling. "Don't... it hurts. Please, Ethan." Her broken plea seemed to placate him. His movements softened, becoming measured and deliberate, as if relishing her surrender. Jackson parked the car in the villa's garage and immediately retreated. The black Rolls-Royce swayed slightly before finally settling into stillness. The heated tension that filled the car dissipated, leaving only the soft hum of their breathing. Winter's chill crept in as Ethan opened the door, lifting Nyla into his arms.

She instinctively burrowed into his chest, seeking warmth, her beige coat wrapping tightly around her small frame. Her face pressed against him as exhaustion claimed her. Ethan carried her into the villa without a word. In the bathroom, he joined her under the warm spray of the shower. Nyla, drained from the day's chaos, didn't resist. Her rare compliance brought a flicker of satisfaction to Ethan's face. The next morning, Nyla stirred awake, her entire body aching. The events of the previous night came rushing back, heat flooding her cheeks.

Her gaze flicked to the empty space beside her, and she bit her lip, frustration bubbling up. "Damn it," she muttered. "How did I let myself get swept up again?" Before she could dwell further-or confront Ethan-her phone buzzed on the nightstand. She frowned, picking it up. An unfamiliar number flashed on the screen. After a brief hesitation, Nyla picked up the ringing phone. "Let's meet up, Nyla." "Who's this?" "I'll text you the location. Please, try to make it." Find your imagination at galn ovels ; con Beep, beep, beep...

The call cut off with a sharp series of beeps, leaving Nyla more curious than concerned. Moments later, her phone lit up with a text containing a café's address. Initially indifferent, Nyla eventually decided to freshen up and venture to the café mentioned in the message. Upon entering, her gaze landed on a solitary figure in the corner-a woman cradling a coffee mug, her face shadowed by unease. Taking a seat across from her, Nyla inquired, "Mrs.

Fowler, what brings you to call upon me today?" Florence Fowler, Trevor's mother, rarely crossed paths with her, yet Nyla knew this woman often spoke ill of her. Meeting Florence's eyes without emotion, Nyla observed as she swiftly raised her head, concealing her unease while composing herself to maintain an air of dignity. "I need to discuss yesterday's incident. Trevor may have overstepped, but you responded harshly.

Perhaps we should consider it settled." Nyla had anticipated this, yet given Trevor's ongoing hospitalization and the absence of solid proof, Florence's haste to reconcile puzzled her. With a casual lean back in her chair, Nyla's expression remained unruffled. "I was fully entitled to defend myself. Honestly, it's surprising I restrained myself as much as I did." . . .