Chapter 120 Are You Willing To Elope With Me (1)

He got up, straightened his wrinkled clothes and looked down at her. "Don't worry. I won't blame you for slapping me."

His tone and posture were damned arrogant, as if the woman sitting in the big bed could be strangled at any time.

He seemed to acquiesce in the topic of their relationship.

Consuela snorted. She raised her hand to wipe the tears off her face. No matter how coward and weak she was, she didn't want to talk about it in front of this man.

Pressing her lips together, she turned her head aside to avoid eye contact with him. "You are the one in charge of the marriage all the time. I'm just a puppet doll. I just need to cooperate with you."

She said in a low and hoarse voice and looked dispirited. With a pair of bright black and white eyes, no one noticed her deep love.

In the stalemate, the man with obvious red marks on his face walked into her, raised the corners of his lips and pinched her jaw, forcing her to look up.

Her cheeks were burning with the hot breath of his perfume. Squinting slightly, he asked, "have you no shame?"

He grabbed her much harder. If he didn't stop, she might have to go to the plastic surgeon.

The chill rose from the bottom of her heart, but her face remained calm. She looked up at the man, and a mocking smile appeared on her delicate face.

"What else can you do except forcing me? This is what happened when we got married, and it is still the case now! "

"I can't compare with you. Didn't you drug me and climb up my bed? Was that your first time sleeping with a man? Your hymen was well mended. Did you pay a lot of money?"

The smile at the corners of the man's mouth seemed to be a bit coquettish. He loosened his hand and ground his beautiful lips, with a crazy look of destruction in his eyes.

She was getting more and more rebellious. She really thought she was the queen when she was pregnant.

Enraged by his words, Consuela restrained her impulse to raise her hand again, shook off his hand, and retreated a few steps. She buried her head between her knees, without saying anything else.

It could be regarde

d a glass at his face, which made him jump onto the sofa and snort to the sleeping man lying on it.

The next morning, Richie woke up in a bed he was not familiar with. The harsh sunlight forced him to squint a little, and he straightened his mood before standing up.

In this apartment, there were only hourly workers busy in cleaning.

The four of them invested and bought the apartment together to have fun or have a rest when they didn't want to stay at home.

When he was still lost in his thought, a woman came up to him and asked, "Sir, do you need some clothes?"

Hearing that, he looked down at his clothes. He did not know what was wrong with his dark suit jacket and most of the buttons of his white shirt were pulled off.

It wasn't his fault. He didn't do it.

Richie rubbed his forehead and took a few deep breaths. Then he returned to his face, gnashed his teeth and said, Yes, I need it."

It didn't seem that his mood wasn't lightened up by the fact that he was here. Instead, he felt more upset.

He turned around and walked into the room again, feeling a surge of missing. If Consuela were here, she would never let him sleep so untidy.

Just as this thought came into his mind, his face stiffened. At such a critical moment, he was still thinking of that unscrupulous woman.

He pursed his lips slightly, but suddenly pulled his wound. His face completely darkened.