Spoil My Errant Wife
Chapter 85: Go Home, Our Home.
Gordon Hotel.
In the luxurious private room, there was a table of delicious food, but Christina was very restrained.
She put down her knife and fork, nervously took up a glass of milk in her right hand, took a sip, and secretly glanced at the man opposite her.
He didn't eat anything.
Christina hesitated for a moment and couldn't help but say, "Patrick, you..."
‘'What does he want to do?’'
She was just waiting for someone at the IP&G Group, then she was inexplicably dragged here by Patrick.
He had the manager serve a table of food, but he just sat there with a straight face and he didn't eat.
Patrick leaned back against the chair, his brows slightly furrowed with weariness, and lazily glanced at the food on the table as if he had no appetite.
Hearing her voice, Patrick looked up at the woman opposite him.
He was a little strange today, and his burning eyes stared straight at her.
The corners of his lips were slightly pursed, as if he was hesitating if he should say that.
All of a sudden, a series of crisp ringtones rang from the coffee table in the private room.
Christina was stunned and immediately stood up and walked over.
It must be Crystal.
"Hey, it's my phone!"
Patrick moved faster than her.
He walked up quickly, picked up the phone on the coffee table, refused the call, turned it off, and threw the white phone on the sofa.
Christina stood aside, annoyed.
"What are you doing? That's my friend..."
She didn't finish her sentence when Patrick suddenly put his arms around her waist...
Christina was astonished.
He held her in his arms...
Christina was pushed onto the sofa.
She lowered her head, opened her eyes wide, and looked at Patrick in disbelief.
Patrick's head rested on her legs, his face buried in her soft belly, his hands around her waist, and he lay on his side on the wide sofa, then...
Fell asleep.
"Hey…”
awkwardly,
He didn't respond.
if he was exhausted,
"Patrick."
her voice and
just ignoring her question, or if he was really
this man just treated her as a
Christina was very embarrassed.
looked around the luxurious room and looked down at the man lying on her
face was
this guy want? He doesn't
eyes falling on his side
this man was really amazing enough to make her eyes fix
facial features and fair skin,
doubt, he could make any woman scream because of his appearance, not to mention his background
man is
was a
forget that a man like
must be afraid of
how could he bear
sound coming from outside the
it clearly, but she felt that
looked up, the
sudden, their eyes
staring at the sofa with his eyes widened
Christina felt awkward.
on her lap and opened her mouth, intending to say something
Click.
room was
"Is there anyone inside?"
It was Chandler's voice.
Charles lied, "No."
room, was furious with
purpose! Christina wanted
"My legs are numb!"
was outside, smiled insidiously and was happy because they did not disturb
day, he accidentally offended
Patrick
the door
that Christina must be
is not feeling well
walk back.Charles strode beside him and spat,
the lobby with him for
for that.The last time you sent that tricking message to Patrick on April Fool's day, then he thought it was true and rushed to find Christina.I heard from his
piece of beef
he saw Patrick lying on the sofa with that witch in his arms, he would have thought he was
piece of beef, Charles became serious and muttered, "Patrick seems really nervous about
mysterious man from the abandoned factory,’’ Chandler took a sip from a
to investigate for so long, but they still didn't find any information of that man.That
who was strange, Patrick would
About Spoil My Errant Wife - Chapter 85: Go Home, Our Home.
Spoil My Errant Wife is the best current series of the author Miss Fok. With the below Chapter 85: Go Home, Our Home. content will make us lost in the world of love and hatred interchangeably, despite all the tricks to achieve the goal without any concern for the other half, and then regret. late. Please read chapter Chapter 85: Go Home, Our Home. and update the next chapters of this series at novelebook.com