Delete My Love for You novel Chapter 31

When Herbert saw the incoming call, he stood up with impeccable discretion. Before leaving, he said, “Your back still hasn’t healed, and now you’ve hurt your hand as well. Get some rest. Tomorrow’s a big day.”

“Alright.”

Charlotte watched Herbert go, then answered the phone. On the other end, a security guard spoke anxiously, “Ma’am—”

“I’m not his wife,” Charlotte cut in coldly.

The guard quickly corrected himself, “Ms. Lawson, Mr. Harrington is at the bar. No one can get him to leave. We had no choice but to call you.”

A memory flashed through Charlotte’s mind—the drone show, the chaos, the cold detachment in her voice. “I have nothing to do with Darren anymore. If anything like this happens again, contact Xena instead.”

She hung up without waiting for a response.

Less than ten seconds later, the phone rang again. This time, she powered it off and let silence settle over the apartment.

In the middle of the night, half-asleep and curled on her side, Charlotte was roused by a persistent knocking at the door. It went on and off for nearly ten minutes.

Wincing from the pain in her back and hand, she dragged herself out of bed and approached the door.

Peering through the peephole, she saw him—Darren. His shirt was rumpled, tie hanging loose around his neck, the top buttons undone. His cheeks were flushed with alcohol.

Thud, thud, thud—he pounded again.

It was well past midnight. The noise made Charlotte jump.

“Darren, if you’re drunk, go back to your own place. Why are you making a scene here?” she hissed, keeping her voice low to avoid waking her neighbors.

But Darren ignored her completely, his voice commanding, “Charlotte, if you don’t open this door, I swear I’ll kick it down.”

She knew he could do it. Darren was built like an athlete and had trained in martial arts; the old apartment door wouldn’t withstand a serious kick.

Resigned, Charlotte cracked the door open just an inch. “What do you want? Where are your bodyguards?” she whispered.

As she spoke, she glanced down the hallway. Sure enough, seven or eight men in crisp suits stood evenly spaced along the corridor—an intimidating spectacle in this run-down building.

Crack!

Her palm connected with his cheek, the sharp slap turning his already heated eyes a deep, furious red.

Choking back a sob, she forced out, “Look at me. I’m not your Xena. Get out!”

She was wearing only a thin ivory slip; in her struggle, one strap had fallen, baring a patch of pale skin. Her chest heaved under the fragile fabric.

Darren’s gaze darkened, his throat working as he swallowed.

Without warning, he tore off the tie dangling around his neck and, before she could react, used it to bind her wrists.

Realizing what he meant to do, Charlotte thrashed desperately. “Let me go! Darren, we’re divorced!”

But her resistance only stoked the primal fire in his eyes.

Holding her wrists above her head with one hand, Darren looked down at her fragile, trembling body, his gaze blazing hotter by the second.