His Wife Calls The Shots
Chapter 1072 When did you start liking the smell of smoke?_1

Chapter 1072: Chapter 1072 When did you start liking the smell of smoke?_1

"Chapter 1072

Alexander Foster was out cold, completely knocked out by the alcohol.

She propped up her head and watched him, slowly breaking into a smile.

Her slender fingers reached out and gently stroked his nose, like teasing a little puppy.

The man showed no reaction.

After a while, she mirrored his pose, leaning against the wall and pretending to sleep with her eyes partially closed.

Her fingers lightly tapped her knee, moving up and down in rhythm with the cheerful melody.

It was the song ’Next Second’ by singer Benson Hamilton.

[I wish we could stay like this forever, growing old together, and the best would be in the next second~]

Maybe, she was drunk tonight too.

-

When Robert Foster and Wanda Wesley returned to the Foster’s, they saw only the dark underside of a hot air balloon, too obscure to see clearly.

Unwilling to miss such a rare spectacle, he rushed off to get a telescope.

He let Wanda have the first look, then he looked through it himself.

"No good, can’t see anyone." Robert Foster complained, "If I had only installed a camera in the hot air balloon, or does anyone have a flying device?"

No sooner had he spoken than a ’bro-fist’ from Evelyn Thompson descended on his head: "Stop worrying about your brother, go and have dinner with your girlfriend."

She laughed.

Robert became red in the ears.

About to leave, he felt someone hold him back on the shoulder. Turning his head, he saw it was Charles Carrington.

"Charlie."

Charles Carrington held a cigarette in the corner of his mouth, his voice slightly deep: "Come with me."

"What’s up?"

"Come."

He was dragged away.

Once they were out of earshot, Charles Carrington took out his cigarette. on his face a light trace of worry: "You met Milton White just now, didn’t you?"

Robert frowned: "Yeah, I drove him away."

"Drove away?" Charles Carrington chuckled, took a puff on his cigarette, exhaled slowly. After a long silence, a hint of struggle and irritation appeared on his brow: "I didn’t want to interfere... damn, you go first."

Robert was confused: "Charlie, what are you going to do?"

Charles Carrington casually put out his cigarette and tossed it into a nearby bin, "Adults have adult matters to worry about, none of your business."

Once he lazily replied, he turned and headed towards the main gate, his figure reminiscent of a languid yet overbearing king cobra.

Robert rubbed the back of his head, full of doubts.

It wasn’t long before Charles Carrington arrived at the Foster Manor gate.

On the way there, he called Milton White and they agreed to meet at a crossroad.

Once he arrived, he spotted a car. Before entering, he made sure to pat off the smell of smoke from his clothes.

To his surprise, as soon as he got in, he was hit by a strong smell of smoke.

He coughed a couple of times, looking towards the man enshrouded in a thin veil of smoke on the driver’s seat.

The warm and gentle handsome face blurred by the white mist, giving a feeling of a piece of paper dabbed with ink and then crumpled up.

"Pick up a new habit?" Charles Carrington smirked and asked.

Milton White used to be close with Alex, and they shared a common trait - they both disliked the smell of smoke.

Milton was even more averse to it than Alex.

In the past, whenever a smoker passed him by, he would feel a psychological disgust that could linger for the entire day.

But now, the smell of smoke on him was even stronger than Charles’s.

Milton slowly lifted his gaze, the milky way under his lashes concealed in the darkness, a deep and sharp light shined from his eyes: "Who’s the little one with Robert?"

Charles Carrington raised an eyebrow: "You like her?"

"Let’s assume so."

Charles Carrington snorted in amusement: "You want me to beat you or would you rather Alex killed you? Not to mention the past incident, now you’re stirring up more trouble by stealing his love?"

He chuckled, leaned closer to Milton: "So, the one you fancy isn’t Chloe Collins, huh?"

Milton turned his head, meeting his gaze with calm eyes.

——

(Can you guess what’s on Milton’s mind?)

(That’s it for today, good night.)