Divorce me I'm done serving you (Ayla) novel Chapter 257

Sol is a famous professional racer. If she and Ayla are friends, what could Ayla possibly have that would attract Sol?

Friends at least have something in common.

Troy couldn't figure it out. The more he thought about Ayla, the more questions he had—and with each one, she seemed even more difficult to read.

He couldn't help clenching his hand, his gaze on his phone growing darker and darker.

...

Ayla drove Draven home. He'd had a few drinks, and it didn't really show on his face. Along the way, she thought he was completely fine. But once they got into the elevator, he had to brace himself against the wall.

By the time they reached his door, even walking was a struggle.

Seeing this, Ayla naturally keyed in his door code, helped him to the couch, then let go. Draven's whole body sank into the cushions. His eyes were closed, his brows tightly knit.

"Feeling awful?" Ayla asked, worried.

Draven nodded.

Ayla said, "Want me to make you lemon tea?"

Draven struggled to open his eyes. "No..."

"You'll probably have a headache tomorrow."

Only then did Draven nod.

Ayla went into the kitchen to get busy. Draven didn't cook, but his kitchen had everything. She quickly found what she needed and started working. As the water boiled in a small pot, her mind wandered. Without realizing it, she tightened her grip on the handle.

In the past, she'd made lemon tea for Troy many times.

Those weren't good memories. Even the boiling water in the pot started to piss her off.

Ayla brought the tea over to Draven. "Mr. Storm, drink it slowly. I'll head back now."

With that, she turned to leave.

From behind her came the man's low, hoarse voice. "Come back."

Ayla turned around. "What do you need?"

Draven's heavy gaze settled on her face. Even drunk, his presence was overwhelming. He studied her for a moment, his voice sinking even lower. "Are you upset?"

Ayla denied it. "I'm not."

Draven ordered, "Come here."

Ayla frowned and didn't move.

Draven set the cup of lemon tea down and stood up. Step by step, he walked over to her. He lowered his head and lifted her chin. Drunk, his gaze seemed to deepen, like shadows stirring beneath clear water. It was mesmerizing but dangerous.

"You were off in the car."

His voice was low. It wasn't a question. It was a statement.

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