The Stand-In Who Burned the Script novel Chapter 112

Chapter 112

It was impossible to tell how much time had passed before the fire in his veins finally

subsided.

He turned and walked back into the room.

The woman on the bed painted a seductive picture, her long hair cascading like seaweed to one side. The smooth, flawless curves of her body, especially the delicate dip of her waist, tugged perfectly at a specific nerve in him.

Her eyes were closed; it looked like she had fallen asleep.

Silas pressed his lips into a hard line, closed his eyes, and opened them again.

Everything was still pitch black.

Fighting the urge to toss her out of the room, he turned and headed for the guest bedroom.

Vivian had originally been faking it, but surrounded by the soothing, woody scent lingering on the bed, she had actually drifted off to sleep.

She woke up earlier than usual the next morning.

Just as she stepped out of the master suite, the door to the guest bedroom opened as well.

“Hey, morning.”

The man barely lifted his eyelids, retreating back into his room to wash up.

By the time he reemerged, Vivian had already laid out a matching suit. She patted the edge of the bed with her soft, delicate hand. “Come here. I learned a new way to tie a tie yesterday. Let’s test it out today.”

Her tone was incredibly natural, as if she were truly a gentle and virtuous wife helping her husband get dressed.

When Silas didn’t move, Vivian walked over and grabbed his hand.

“Don’t worry, I actually have great taste.”

That was the truth.

The suit she had picked out for him yesterday had earned him a few jokes from executives at last night’s dinner party, asking if he had hired a personal stylist.

Silas lowered his head. The blurred light in front of him slowly came into focus. Though still unable to see clearly, he could make out a vague silhouette.

The woman’s clothes were a mess, her hair draped carelessly over her shoulders, and a large expanse of luminous skin below her collarbone was on full display.

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11:32

Chapter 112

Perhaps she thought he couldn’t see…

No.

Even if he could, with her uninhibited personality, she absolutely wouldn’t tone it down.

Vivian simply stripped off his shirt and held up the crisp white one she had chosen,

“Arms out.”

”

11

“Come on, put them out!”

She grabbed Silas’s hands, raised them, and shoved them into the sleeves.

Once the shirt was on, things got a bit tricky. Vivian stuck her tongue out playfully, figuring that if she tried to pull his pants off, she would probably end up tossed into the pond to feed

the fish.

She reached out, pinched the waistband of his trousers, and gave it a light snap. “Need help with the pants?”

Silas’s gaze darkened. “Get out!”

“No need to be so stingy,” Vivian muttered, but she cooperatively turned around.

A dozen seconds later.

A faint, awkward sound echoed in the room.

Vivian instinctively glanced over her shoulder to find the man standing completely still, his hands resting in a very compromising position.

A spark of realization hit her, and she whispered tentatively, “Is it… stuck?”

His face was stormy. He didn’t say a word.

Vivian wanted to laugh but felt it was probably inappropriate at this moment. She reached out her hand. “Let me help.”

“…No need.”

The moment the words left Silas’s mouth, her hands were already on him.

Rather than trying to fix the zipper, it felt more like she was blatantly taking advantage of the situation.

The veins at his temples throbbed.

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“Vivian… let go!”

“You won’t be able to get it unstuck without my help-”

Simon Young pushed the door open, completely unprepared for the scandalous scene before him. The boss stood with his back to the door, while Miss Fairchild was right in front of him, her hands directly in the danger zone…

Combined with her highly suggestive words, it was an absolute disaster.

Simon’s scalp went numb. He frantically apologized, “I am so sorry, Boss… Please, continué!”

Silas had reached his absolute limit. “Get your ass back here!”