Chapter 313 This Was Andrew (Part 1)
The fancy bedroom was barely lit.
Chloe was sprawled out on the plush bed, totally stuck.
Right next to her pillow, she could smell that aftershave Andrew always wore.
This was the third time this month she'd been snatched.
Every time, Andrew would tie her up, blindfold her, and gently bind her wrists with his tie, making her sleep next to him like a good girl.
But he rarely laid a finger on her.
He'd just hold her all night, sometimes stroking her when he felt like it.
At the bedroom door, she heard soft footsteps, and then the bed dipped beside her. His warm fingers brushed her face.
She was drop-dead gorgeous, every feature just right.
Finally, Andrew stopped, staring at her with longing.
Chloe didn't fight it. The blindfold over her eyes got damp as she cried softly, "Andrew, aren't you getting hitched? Why do you keep dragging me here? You want me to be your side chick?"
Andrew was a bit shocked; she knew it was him.
He hadn't tied her tight enough; she struggled hard and managed to free herself.
Seeing the light again, she locked eyes with him.
Her chest was heaving.
Chloe looked at the Andrew she'd loved for so long, her lips trembling. "Mr. Devereux, I might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but you can't keep messing with me. No matter how down on my luck I am, I can't be a side chick."
Over half a year ago, she'd had a few drinks.
That night, they'd gone wild.
Later, when he came to Syeattel, they'd sometimes spend the night together. After all, he had no other woman, they had a kid together, and he'd told her to wait for him for two years.
She'd been over the moon, thinking they'd get married.
Now the news of Andrew's wedding was all over the papers, but the bride wasn't her.
Even so, he still wanted to sleep with her.
Andrew looked at her tear-filled eyes, grabbed a cigarette from the pack, and lit it, annoyed.
He wanted to tell her to wait another six months.
He wanted to say that his wedding news was fake, but how many two years does a woman have, and how many six months does her youth have?
Andrew's Adam's apple bobbed for a long time.
Finally, he sighed softly. "Chloe, I'm sorry."
He gently pulled her over.
She didn't want him to touch her, stubbornly glaring at him, her eyes red.
He knew she loved him deeply.
This love was mixed with affection, infatuation, and admiration, and countless memories of their lovemaking.
Andrew gently patted her head, his voice hoarse yet tender. "I made breakfast. Go wash your face. Nathan will send a car to take you back later."
His tone was like a mix of a lover and a caring dad.
After saying his piece, he bolted out of the bedroom.
He moved fast, like he was scared something would catch up to him or he'd regret it in the next second.
Andrew left the room and stood in the hallway.
He punched the wall hard, leaving blood stains on the white paint.
His life felt like a prison.
He once thought he could move on, so he broke up with Chloe a few years back. When they met again, he was floored to find out he had a son. He thought two years would be enough to sort things out and take care of them.
But he broke his promise.
In the bathroom, Chloe squatted by the toilet, crying quietly.
She knew it wasn't a good look.
But she couldn't help it. She could only cry like this because when she got home, she had to act like she didn't care.
She still had to be a good daughter,
She still had to be a good mom to Gavin,
Outside, she was still a dazzling model.
'Chloe, once you leave this house, you can't cry anymore,' she thought to herself.
In a daze, she found a pack of cigarettes, probably left by Andrew. She lit one and thought back to her first meeting with Andrew.
Back then, she was still a naive girl.
And he was the big shot.
She'd always remember that evening when a bunch of cars suddenly showed up at her place, and a dozen bodyguards in black escorted that important man into her world.
He stood in the Hawkins Mansion hall, oozing elegance.
That day, Chloe heard people say he was Andrew from Copenhagen and he was Charlotte's uncle.
She walked down the stairs gracefully, and Patrick told her to greet him. Looking at his young and handsome face, she thought, 'He doesn't look much older than 30. Yet, Patrick and Frederick seemed pretty scared of him.'
She thought, 'If I play nice and behave, maybe he won't mess with Frederick and will let Charlotte be with Frederick.'
That day, she wore a white dress.
It looked like a nightgown.
From the top of the stairs, she called out, "Hello, Andrew."
At that moment, he turned his head.
Seeing his face, she admitted her heart skipped a beat. She never thought Charlotte would have such a handsome uncle, and one with such high status. He responded casually and then talked to Patrick.
She had never seen anyone talk to Patrick so casually.
Later, Andrew left.
Patrick said he was cunning, but Frederick said nothing. She thought Patrick was wrong; Andrew was clearly very gentle, speaking politely.
At that time, she wondered how there could be someone so good-looking in the world.
She thought she liked Andrew.
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