The next day, Aaron immediately replied to her, indicating that he had found a candidate who met the requirements.
This man had a handsome appearance, outstanding physique, and, most importantly, exceptional skills in bed.
Opening the photo, Roselin was captivated at first glance. The person in the picture leaned casually against the railing, arms crossed, as if engaged in conversation, exuding both nobility and relaxation. With well-trimmed short hair, the individual appeared sharp and well-proportioned in the play of light and shadow.
“He’s the one. Ask him if he can come tonight,” Roselin instructed.
“Sure, Miss Cecy. However, he has one condition.”
“He’s a bit shy and prefers the lights off. Ask him to come to Greenhill Club tonight, and you brief him on my rules. Be prepared in advance.”
“Understood, Miss Cecy,” came the reply.
Roselin hung up the phone and continued with her work.
Suddenly, Roselin called Mark Goden. “Mr. Goden, the divorce agreement is signed. Farewell for now. Let’s not let others know about our divorce. If you’re unwilling, at least maintain appearances. It won’t take too long.”
Mark Goden chuckled in frustration.
Roselin ended the call and continued working. As time passed swiftly, it was nearing 3 a. m. when she remembered her arranged meeting. Hurriedly packing her belongings, she had the driver take her back to Greenhill Club.
Entering the dimly lit entrance bathed in moonlight, she spotted a pair of men’s shoes. After changing into more comfortable footwear, she rubbed her tired feet and prepared to take a shower.
Taking off her sophisticated outfit, she walked towards the bathroom.
After a relaxing bath and wrapping herself in a towel, she left the bath and meticulously tended to her beautiful, silky hair.
Turning to leave the dressing room, Roselin’s steps halted as she noticed her phone, which had been left on the table.
Picking up the phone, she was surprised to find a call from Mark Goden.
“The Chansherly house has also been transferred to your name. You don’t need to move out.”
“Got it.”
“Still not asleep?” His voice was slightly deep, carrying a hint of displeasure.
He had intentionally returned to the Chansherly estate today to move things in front of her, only to find out that she had already packed up and left.
The house staff at Chansherly cautiously informed him, “Your wife packed up and left as soon as you left yesterday.”
Mark Goden stared at the empty room, still filled with the familiar fragrance of the woman. It irritated him, causing a dull ache in his temples.
Roselin asked, “Hmm, anything you need?”
Hearing this calm and indifferent question, Mark Goden hesitated for a moment, not knowing why he had impulsively made this call tonight.
After a brief pause, Mark Goden, suppressing his anger, patiently reminded her, “The house is yours, as stated in the agreement. You don’t need to move out.”
“I know.”
Mark Goden tightened his grip on the phone, anger rising in him. “Then why did you…”
He didn’t finish his sentence, but Roselin knew what he wanted to say.
Mark Goden’s coldness had made her fully realize the nature of men. She no longer hoped for love, and money became her ultimate security.
Recalling Mark Goden’s heartless words after a few drinks, “I’d rather have other women than touch you,” he had indeed stayed true to his words. In five years of marriage, he never touched her.
“Mr. Goden, I’m busy. If there’s nothing else, I’ll hang up,” she said before he could reply, and she ended the call.
Mark Goden’s eyebrows furrowed, watching the phone that Roselin had hung up on him for the first time. An indistinct anger was building inside him, barely controllable.
If it weren’t for her repeatedly emphasizing her liking for that house, and him deliberately transferring it to her name to avoid any misunderstandings, he wouldn’t bother about her moving out.
!
The phone slammed onto the bedside cabinet with a ‘thud,’ and a ‘ding’ echoed.
Mark Goden, thinking it was Roselin, eagerly grabbed the phone. However, the screen displayed the message from the A-list celebrity Elizabeth Snow: “Mr. Goden, I’ve been waiting for your response. You mentioned you needed me to accompany you to tomorrow’s art exhibition. Are you still going?”
Irritated, he initially considered declining but changed his mind, replying, “The driver will pick you up tomorrow.” Still feeling uneasy, he added, “Never mind, I’ll come myself.”
Whether Roselin cared about his connection with the celebrity, he deliberately showcased it to her. Pushing open the guest room door, she saw a tall figure standing by the window, face unseen, but the broad shoulders, narrow waist, and an aura of aloofness left a lasting impression. Before she could speak, he had walked to the bedside. Roselin felt a moment of awkwardness.
Attempting composure, she coughed lightly, breaking the silence. “Come over, carry me to bed.”
Since she spent money, she wanted the best service. The man on the bed hesitated for a moment before rising and approaching her. As he neared, she caught a whiff of a woody scent, exceptionally clean. He was tall, and a familiar feeling surged within her. Without waiting for her reaction, he bent down and lifted her horizontally. She felt delicate in his scorching palms.
Gently placing her on the bed, he paused and asked, “What’s next?” Roselin frowned; the voice seemed familiar. In the proximity, she could sense his breath, and her hand grazed his waist. Squinting, she carefully identified him an Hermes, quite impressive.
Her slender, fair hand followed his trousers down to the zipper. As she unzipped, the warm hand holding her delicate wrist didn’t resist or tighten. Nervously swallowing, she lacked the courage to proceed. “Regretting it?” he asked. “Who’s regretting?”