Dear Ex-Wife, You Are MINE!

Sha has a Date!

ALESSANDRO’S POV

The limousine stopped in front of one of the old convention halls in London. Stepping out of the car, I stood straight. Camilla slipped out after me and latched onto my arm. I held back a growl of frustration, wishing it was just beside me instead.

It felt as though things were so out of control. But I would find a way to make it right soon. I just had to get through that night, and everything would be fine. With long strides, I headed for the entrance.

“Why are you in a rush, Al?” Camilla asked, sounding all too innocent, making me wonder how I hadn’t seen through her before.

“Just follow me silently if you don’t want to go back home,” I said, coldly, keeping my eyes on the entrance.

I didn’t hear any words from her, just a faded disappointed grunt.

After checking in, we went inside to our table in the VIP section. As I turned to take my seat, I stopped short. Victoria was there in a red party dress with her shoulder-length hair combed back and bright red lips that matched her dress. She looked stunning.

I noticed others staring at her ravishing beauty, and my blood boiled, not wanting them to eye

she there? And how? She only ever went to business parties as my companion. Had she known I was coming? Did she know I

me wished she’d see me and

was she with? The thought of someone else with her both frustrated and suffocated me. My eyes darted around her

tightly. “This event is too low-class. How can

shame. Worse, she’d spoken too loudly, drawing the attention of others. Victoria had heard as well. She peered at us, and to my disappointment, simply smiled before

calm, as

Camilla even more, so much so that she

arrived and asked, “Is

even more attention. She pointed at Victoria, “How can that type of person get a VIP seat? Don’t you people have a priority list? What kind of event is

know her, that I wasn’t with the crazy woman. But I owed her a debt, so I had to mind my manners and couldn’t publicly

and apologized. “I’m sorry, Mr. Devonte. The seats are arranged by the

the one talking to you, and you’re apologizing to him? Why not address me?” Her tone grew