Game Over, Mr. CEO: Your Wife Is Done (Winter and Chris) novel Chapter 345

Chapter 345

Behind her, the sea wind drove the rain hard against the bathroom window.

It almost felt like the cold was slipping in through the gaps, wrapping around her.

Her fingers paused on the drawer handle for a second before she closed it, her expression blank.

“Dinner’s ready, Mrs. Xander.”

The maid’s voice came from outside the bedroom door. The room was so large it sounded distant, pulling Winter’s thoughts back.

She came to her senses, stepped out of the bathroom, and said, “I’m not hungry. And call me Ms. Scott. I’m not Mrs. Xander.”

The maid froze for a moment, then remembered the instructions she had been given earlier. Whatever Winter said, they were to follow.

She nodded. “Yes, Ms. Scott.”

After the maid left, Winter sat on the black sofa by the window. Her hand drifted to the edge of the armrest.

Then she suddenly froze.

She stared at her own hand.

Her thoughts had been a mess just now. She had only wanted something to distract herself, so she had reached out without thinking.

But why had she done that?

She moved her fingers forward, then down.

As expected, her hand slipped into a pocket along the side of the armrest and pulled out a magazine.

She looked at the magazine in her hand, something flickering in her eyes.

Why did this feel so familiar?

Back at her place in Westbay, there had been the same kind of pocket on the sofa armrest.

Was that why she had reached for it without thinking?

She set the magazine aside and looked out at the rain growing heavier outside, irritation creeping into her chest. She stood and walked over to the window.

Outside, the rain poured down in sheets.

Chris walked toward the house, holding the torn shirt he had ripped apart earlier.

Rainwater ran into his eyes. He narrowed them slightly and watched as she turned away and disappeared from view.

Chris stepped inside, bare-chested, and tossed the torn shirt into the trash.

A bodyguard immediately stepped forward and draped a towel over his shoulders.

He glanced at the maid. “Did you ask her to eat?”

The maid hesitated. “Mrs… Ms. Scott said she wasn’t hungry.”

Ms. Scott.

His gaze darkened slightly, but he said nothing more. He glanced toward the stairs and headed upstairs.

When he entered the room, Winter was leaning against the sofa, flipping through a magazine.

The light fabric of her skirt flared out around her ankles, revealing the same feet that knew exactly how to kick him.

Chris pulled the towel off his shoulders and roughly wiped his face and dripping hair.

“Not hungry?” he said. “Then what do you feel like eating?”