Chapter 1503 - 1493: Every Day I See You, I Want To...

The next morning, Kyla Zamora’s phone call jolted Chloe Winston awake.

"Chloe, you went shopping at the mall with the Countess last night, and then went home together with Mr. Stewart?" Kyla was practically jumping with rage over the phone.

Chloe wasn’t fully awake yet. Yesterday she’d had a shoot, then went on a shopping spree at the mall, and after coming home Constantine Stewart had teased her; she’d spent the whole night having nightmares—being chased by a tiger, just about to be eaten when the tiger turned into a cat, endlessly acting cute and begging her to pet its fur.

That fright and shock left her sleeping badly all night.

"Mm, what’s wrong?" She rubbed her eyes as she got up, opened the door, and went to the open-air balcony on the second floor to breathe in the morning’s fresh air, but she didn’t see Constantine doing his morning workout on one side.

Ever since Chloe moved back to live on Fulham Road, the second-floor open-air balcony had become the place where the two of them spent the most time apart from the bedroom. Constantine had renovated the huge balcony; seeing that Chloe kept flowers, plants, and vines at home, he had people build racks along the walls and filled them with all kinds of rare flowers.

Though it hadn’t been long, with Constantine’s endless money, he had literally thrown cash at it until he’d created a stunning balcony garden; the remaining area was also divided by him into several zones, one of which was a fitness area.

When Chloe came out in her fluffy little cotton slippers and a pure-cotton camisole dress, Constantine was in the middle of Strength training. He lifted his eyes and saw little Chloe, still drowsy, sitting on the wooden bench, her little head bobbing as she listened to the phone.

Maybe because the weather hadn’t turned cold yet, her autumn drowsiness was serious; when she got up early, she habitually sat on the balcony and dozed for a while before fully waking up. She didn’t even know when she’d picked up this habit.

Constantine’s gaze darkened with a faint glow as he looked at her in that skimpy camisole dress, her skin white as snow, her chest round and full, not a patch of skin on her that wasn’t pale, so pale it seemed to glow. He suddenly felt that this early in the morning he was about to get a nosebleed.

The man stood up, put down the exercise equipment, and walked over.

"If they got pictures, then they got pictures. We did go home together," Chloe muttered, eyes still closed. Then, belatedly, her eyes flew wide open as she stammered, "Sis, they got pictures?"

Kyla almost coughed up blood from fury. So this little ancestor was only now understanding what she’d been saying?

"Not only did they get shots of you and your future mother-in-law walking arm-in-arm all cozy at the mall, buying clothes for Mr. Stewart, they also got shots of Mr. Stewart coming to pick you up, and the two of you riding home together. Right now the whole internet is going wild saying you two are secretly married." Kyla spoke weakly, "I must have signed a dumb artist."

"Why don’t we just make this secret marriage thing official?" Mr. Stewart sat down and spoke in a low, magnetic voice.

"M-Mr. Stewart?" Hearing Constantine’s voice over the phone, Kyla’s tone immediately lost a few degrees of momentum. She almost blurted out "No way"—how could anyone just jump into the deep pit that is the Stewart Family?

"Why are you here?" Chloe was still reeling from the rumor about her secret marriage to Constantine. When she looked up, she saw the man in a soft, loose gray loungewear set, sitting beside her. His deep, chiseled features still had a light sheen of sweat, clearly from working out here early in the morning, burning off his abundant energy.

The fabric he wore was a very lightweight, top-quality cotton; the only downside was that it was too thin, so you could vaguely make out the lines of his muscles beneath, especially this early in the morning when his whole body exuded thick hormones, and his pants looked a little tight.

Chloe sneaked a glance, her cheeks heating up as she hastily averted her eyes, completely forgetting to answer what he’d said before.

Constantine naturally knew about the rumors online. Nothing like this would be exposed without his say-so, especially not a "secret marriage" angle.

"Ah Chu, don’t go to the set today. I’ve already asked Mao Shan for leave for you. And don’t go out these next two days; just stay home and rest," Kyla instructed, then hesitated. Carefully, with a tentative smile, she added, "If Mr. Stewart could come forward and clarify, that would be the best."

"Clarify how? Our faces are both in the photos; it’s not like the netizens are blind. Might as well just frankly admit it." Constantine clearly knew those words were meant for him. He didn’t even take Chloe’s phone, just leaned his handsome face close to her ear so they shared the phone, looking extremely intimate.

Kyla: "..."

Kyla opened her mouth, then swallowed her bitterness and hung up, feeling like she’d just eaten a mouthful of coptis with no way to complain. Constantine’s tactics for chasing a girl were just too underhanded—actually trying to borrow the power of the masses of netizens?

Heh. Shameless. And what was with that Countess? Kyla couldn’t shake the feeling that this mother and son were both trying to lure their artist into a pit.

After Chloe waited for Kyla to hang up, her head finally cleared completely. She quietly shifted her body, scooting toward the edge of the bench. When she saw Constantine, she couldn’t help thinking of the dream she’d had last night—that huge tiger lying beside her, exposing its belly, rubbing and rubbing against her. It had almost made her nose bleed from the cuteness.

It was just that Constantine was a tiger with real teeth and a vicious streak, unlikely to ever act that cutesy. Chloe abruptly smacked herself on the head, trying to clear her mind.

"Why don’t you come out and clarify that we’re just friends?" Chloe looked up at him, speaking in a negotiating tone.

Constantine raised a brow, his beautiful phoenix eyes narrowing as he nodded and said, expressionless, "Mm. Friends who go in and out together and live together. Chloe Winston, did a door crush your brain? Since when are there purely platonic opposite-sex ’friends’ in this world? Or do you want me to say it out loud—that every day I look at you, I want to sleep with you."

Chloe: !!!

Negotiations broke down. Chloe stormed back to her room in her little cotton slippers.

Constantine rubbed his firm jaw, feeling that what he’d said wasn’t all that explicit. If he didn’t spell it out, little Chloe might really think he could be a monk for life.

These past days, Constantine had gradually figured out Chloe’s ostrich-like way of avoiding reality. The two of them were indeed living together, actually cohabiting, but she could still hypnotize herself into treating him like a buddy, a girlfriend, as if those past three years of lovey-dovey days and nights in bed had never happened, and now they were just good friends under the same roof, like roommates. Once the co-rental period was up, they’d just... split.

Constantine let out a cold laugh. Living in his house, eating his food, sleeping in his bedroom, acting all dazed and innocent, wanting to eat him up and wipe her mouth clean without taking responsibility—Chloe Winston had the wrong idea.

Seeing her leave, he bent his legs and sat on the bench, bored, continuing to scroll through Weibo.

The scandal had broken early in the morning. For the sake of Chloe’s sleep, Constantine had deliberately held it back half the night before not letting it drop. In just one morning, the two of them had dominated every topic. Fans were weeping with joy, thrilled that the strongest CP in history, the Warm Winter Couple, had finally gotten together—mass celebration, confetti everywhere.