Boss, Your Ex-Wife is Unreachable Now! novel Chapter 73

"Who are you people?"

The real estate agent was in the middle of enthusiastically listing all the villa's selling points to his clients when an icy voice drifted down from upstairs. He and the couple both jumped in surprise.

Following the voice, the agent looked up and saw a strikingly handsome man standing at the upstairs landing, his expression cold and aristocratic. There was an undeniable air of authority about him as he gazed down at the group below.

"And who are you, exactly?" The agent heard himself stammer, suddenly feeling as if he were the trespasser here, not the imposing man above.

Could this be the master of the house? The woman who'd listed the villa was married, after all—maybe this was her husband.

As the agent tried to puzzle it out, the man's voice rang out again, even frostier this time. "Are you here to view the house?"

The agent's suspicions seemed confirmed, and he quickly regained his composure, pasting on a professional smile. "Yes, that's right. Your wife asked us to handle the sale, so today I brought Mr. and Mrs. Langley to have a look."

Surely, aside from the lady of the house, only her husband would have such free run of the place.

Mr. and Mrs. Langley seemed to think the same.

"Yes, your home is quite impressive," Mrs. Langley added with a polite smile.

She was at least ten years older than the man on the landing, yet for some reason, her tone was unusually deferential. It could have been the sheer force of his presence—or perhaps his striking good looks.

Unconsciously, Mrs. Langley's cheeks tinged pink.

Her husband was more perceptive. As a businessman, Mr. Langley could sense that the young man upstairs was not someone to trifle with.

The couple had just returned from living abroad and were searching for a well-located, high-quality house for themselves. This villa had seemed perfect—until now.

She actually wanted to sell the house?

Perfect.

…

Willow sneezed unexpectedly.

She had arranged to meet Ablitt for lunch that afternoon and had arrived early at a cozy grill house, the kind of place that felt especially inviting in the winter.

Ablitt was nearby, overseeing the printing of his new book at the local press. He'd barely touched his lunch, saving his appetite for their two o'clock barbecue.

Parking outside, Ablitt spotted Willow standing by the restaurant, caught mid-sneeze. He reached into the back seat for a big, warm jacket, then locked the car and made his way over to her.