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.

at her ravishing beauty, and my blood

Why was she there? And how? She only ever went to business parties as my companion. Had she known

everything in me wished she’d see me and sit

Who was she with? The thought of someone else with her both frustrated and

the fuck is she here?” Camilla asked, then held my arm tightly. “This event is too low-class. How can someone like her be allowed in? I don’t think you make the right choice

turned even more sour. She had no 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

any reaction? She’d remained calm, as though

so much so that

guard arrived and asked, “Is there something wrong,

pointed at Victoria, “How can that type of person get a VIP seat? Don’t you people have a priority list? What kind of

with the crazy woman. But I owed her a debt, so I had to mind my manners

security guard looked embarrassed, and I couldn’t blame him. He lowered his head toward me and apologized. “I’m sorry, Mr. Devonte. The seats are arranged by the organizer, not by our hall.

and you’re apologizing to him? Why not address me?” Her tone grew louder with each word. “How dare you