My Coldhearted Ex demands a Remarriage
Chapter 178

However, the lingering shadow of their unresolved issues, coupled with the frequent remarks about how well-matched she and Asher seemed, unsettled him once more.

Even though Elijah understood that Elizabeth saw Asher merely as a sibling figure, he couldn’t quell the gnawing suspicion that perhaps one day, someone who meshed seamlessly with her true essence would emerge.

Since they had exchanged vows, Elizabeth had increasingly become an emblem of ownership to Elijah, portrayed in the devotion in her eyes which seemed to declare her as uniquely his.

Nevertheless, Elizabeth had blossomed into a dazzling, autonomous force, her presence lighting up rooms, increasingly disconnected from Elijah’s shadow.

Annoyance prickling at his nerves, Elijah snapped his head dismissively and strode toward the sanctuary of the bathroom, aiming to drown his frustrations under the steady cascade of a shower.

Half an hour later, even as Elijah dried his hair, the chill of the shower couldn’t extinguish the warmth coursing through him.

The evidence of his arousal refused to fade.

As he mechanically pushed open the bathroom door, he stopped short.

The room, once bathed in clarity, now lay in subdued twilight, illuminated only by the dim whisper of a wall lamp.

His scattered thoughts sharpened instantly.

The corporate world was a ruthless game, and he had long since learned to recognize the dangerous ploys and cunning tricks that came with it.

He scanned the room with a measured gaze, finding it deceptively calm at first.

Yet, his eyes froze on a darkened corner where a graceful figure sat silently on his bed.

Relief momentarily washed over him—it was only a woman, seemingly harmless.

The image of the earlier dinner bubbled up in his mind, nudging him to conjecture that she could be an ill-conceived overture from a clueless corporate executive.

“Leave this place now!” he commanded, his voice echoing as he reached for the light switch.

“Mr.

James, please, it’s me.” The reply came in a soft, uncertain tone, almost pleading.

As the room brightened, Aspyn awkwardly climbed off the bed, clutching her chest with crossed arms in embarrassment.

Her outfit, a scant sailor dress, clung to her form, its material so delicate it left little to the imagination.

Color crept up Aspyn’s cheeks; she lowered her gaze yet stole timid glances at Elijah.

Elijah himself stood imposingly, his upper body bare, a towel slung low around his hips.

Droplets of water meandered down from his damp locks, skimming over his chiseled chest and along the defined lines of his abs, eventually getting absorbed by the fabric of his towel.

The evident bulge under his towel sent a thrilling pulse through Aspyn, heating her from within.

She barely noticed the storm brewing in Elijah’s eyes, her focus locked on one electrifying thought.

The way he looked at her, the tension in his stance—it was clear he couldn’t hide his arousal.