Chapter 220 Drinking Again
Alexander's stamina was remarkable. As he held Ava in his arms, she began to tire, yet he showed no signs of fatigue.
After a time, his gaze shifted from her face, and he carried her away.
He returned Ava to their shared room, depositing her onto the bed with a roughness that belied his irritation. Yet, the bed's softness cushioned her, sparing her any discomfort.
Alexander, still clad in his suit but sans tie, undid a few of the top buttons, revealing his taut chest. With his hands resting on his hips, he cast a cold stare at the woman lying on the bed.
He opened his mouth to speak, but seeing her panic, clutching the blanket, he clenched his jaw. He dropped his hands and irritably shrugged off his coat, discarding it without care.
Ava, in response, wrapped herself tightly in the blanket, a defensive gesture.
Despite their impending divorce the following day, Alexander had brought her back to their once-shared bedroom. Was he planning to spend the night here?
She had no desire to share one last sentimental night with him. How many "last nights" had they already endured?
Without another word, Alexander turned and left, the door slamming shut behind him.
The sound of the closing door caused Ava's heart to leap, as if squeezed by an invisible hand. She clutched the blanket to her chest, her frail body trembling. She had been sleeping peacefully at William's home when Alexander had abruptly brought her back, thrusting her into a state of restlessness. She found herself tossing and turning, sleep eluding her.
She reached for her phone to check the time, only to realize with a jolt that she had left it at William's place.
Unbeknownst to her, the wee hours of the morning crept in, and a wave of drowsiness finally washed over her.
Ava's eyes fluttered shut in a daze, but shortly after drifting off, the door burst open with a loud noise.
Startled, Ava's eyes snapped open, and she bolted upright in bed.
A few more scares like that and she might develop a heart condition.
The room's light flickered on, and Alexander strode in, still dressed in his earlier attire. He approached her bedside.
As he neared, Ava caught a strong whiff of alcohol and frowned. "Why are you drinking again?" she asked, her tone instinctual.
Despite his sensitive stomach, he insisted on drinking. It was as if he was punishing himself.
"Interesting, the woman who thought I was going to throw her down the stairs now cares if I drink or not?" His tone was icy, laced with mockery.
Ava's hand, hidden under the covers, clenched as she retorted coldly, "Who cares about you? I was just asking casually. Drink if you want, it's your health, not mine!"
Once they were divorced, he would belong to Isabella, and other women would be there to care for him. Why should she bother?
Ava turned away and settled back into bed, covering up again, not wishing to engage with him further. Suddenly, Alexander stepped forward and yanked the covers off her.
"What are you doing?" Ava sat up again, her face etched with impatience, "It's the middle of the night, and I need to sleep. We have a divorce to get through tomorrow, and you should head back to bed, too, lest you show up hungover in the morning."
"Oh, really?" Alexander's laugh was tinged with sarcasm, "Worried I'll be too drunk to get divorced tomorrow?"
Ava replied, "Since you remember that we're getting divorced tomorrow, you're not blackout drunk. Just go back to sleep."
"Go back? Where to? This is my room, isn't it?" Alexander sat on the edge of the bed, a mocking smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
