Shattered Illusions: Love, Lies, and Redemption

Liz stood there, the towering figure of Remington engulfing her from behind, his arms wrapped around her in an intimate embrace. The crisp, woody scent of his cologne invaded her senses, making her acutely aware of their proximity.

She shifted uncomfortably, attempting to pull away. "I can handle it myself."

"Stay still. You won't get it clean properly. Don't you find it gross?" Remington's voice was a deep murmur, his gaze softening as he looked down at her.

Indeed, Liz found the situation repulsive, which explained her delayed reaction and why she had allowed him to pull her close in the first place.

But was he taking too long?

However, the thought of not being thoroughly clean, especially knowing it was Stella's vomit, made Liz relent. After all, her silk blouse clung to her skin, leaving her no choice but to let Remington help.

He squeezed some soap onto her sleeve, his movements gentle, perhaps sensing her impatience. "Don't move; it'll be just a moment."

Liz, momentarily caught off guard, watched him from the mirror. His focus remained solely on the task at hand, his body barely touching hers, as if to reassure her of his intentions.

Gradually, Liz's tension eased, and she murmured an acknowledgment.

Seeing him meticulously scrubbing her sleeve, she bit her lip. "Aren't you a germophobe? It doesn't bother you, dealing with Stella's mess?"

Remington paused, turning to her with a half-smile. "Ungrateful, aren't you? Do you really think I'd bother if it weren't for you?"

His handsome features darkened with a mix of frustration and affection, but he didn't let go. Once again, he had her close, using any excuse to hold her in his embrace.

He didn't want to lose this moment to anger or frustration. After carefully rubbing the wet fabric between his fingers, he added, "Liz, do you really not understand, or are you just pretending?"

His voice carried a hint of suppressed melancholy and sadness. Liz's eyelashes fluttered.

"Oh, please call me Ms. Madden."

She despised Hans and had taken her family's name back, becoming Lizetta Madden, after returning to the Madden family. Remington knew this, yet in his frustration, heo reverted to using her first name.

He glanced at her through the mirror again. "Too hard to switch now. Can I just call you Liz? You haven't changed that, have you?"

The sleeve was now clean, and Liz didn't bother arguing about what he should call her. It was clear he wouldn't follow her wishes anyway.

She twisted her wrist, signaling for Remington to let go. He complied, turning off the tap.

"Dry it off," he suggested.

Liz moved to the hand dryer, the silk fabric drying quickly under the warm air.

79 her sleeve, she found

no trace of the stain, only the fresh

scent of citrus soap. Conten &

Liz smiled slightly. "Didn't know Mr. Dashiell was so good at laundry. You'll be charging a service fee, I assume?"

As she spoke, she pulled out a few bills from her purse, stuffing them into his suit pocket.

Just as she was about to leave, Remington caught her, pulling her back gently. Liz spun around, her back hitting the wall as his tall frame cast a shadow over her. "What are you doing?" Liz frowned, her voice tense, her eyes wary.Content © NôvelDrama.Org 2024.

Remington looked down at her, the soft flutter of her eyelashes casting delicate shadows across her nose, fluttering like butterfly wings, stirring

his heart with every tremb belongs to