Substitute Bride: Utterly Pampered by Her Billionaire Husband-Chapter 1230: Dotty’s Call

Julian Carter raised an eyebrow and lowered his voice, "Want to catch the mole?"

Mort Thorne lounged lazily on the sofa, about to speak, when Dianna Hollis walked out of the kitchen. She handed the fruit platter in her hand to the coffee table, "There are a few oranges in the fridge, I’ve sliced them, you guys enjoy, they should be sweet."

Mort bent over, picked up a slice of orange, and brought it to his thin lips.

But the next second, he froze.

"What’s wrong?" Julian asked.

Mort showed no expression, not even a wrinkle on his brow. He directly reached out and tossed the slice of orange into the trash bin, "The orange is spoiled."

"How is that possible? You’re teasing me, aren’t you? I’ll taste it myself." Dianna reached out her small hand to grab an orange slice from the fruit platter.

With a "pop" sound, Mort gently slapped her small hand, frowning slightly, "Being disobedient? Go cook!"

Seeing his fierce expression, Dianna sulkily but obediently returned to the kitchen.

After Dianna left, Julian picked up a slice of orange and sniffed it under his nose, his face turning serious, "The orange is poisoned. It seems someone is eager to make a move."

Mort ran a rough thumb over the stubble on his firm jaw, "Once I catch this traitor, I’ll make sure they pay dearly!"

Dare to target Dianna, dare to poison her, he would absolutely take down this traitor.

"Now the enemy is in the dark, and we’re in the open. Dianna could be in danger at any time. Mort, do you have any good ideas?"

Mort raised a distinctly sharp eyebrow, of course, he had a good idea.

Seeing the confidence in his look, Julian laughed, "Since you’ve already got a plan, hurry and execute it. I applied to the organization long ago and even went to make a report in person. The authorization has been granted, so now my position is yours!"

These three years he spent secluded in the mountains, Julian didn’t forget him; instead, he always kept him in mind.

The authorization also arrived.

Mort could wear the military uniform now!

Mort slowly curled his thin lips into a smile, his heavy and steady brows and eyes gradually revealed joy and delight, finally, the day had come.

It wasn’t easy.

Really not easy.

... 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

Dianna wasn’t good at cooking, nor were there many ingredients at home. She fried a plate of peanuts, made some garlic cucumber, and Mort and Julian drank a whole bottle of white wine while eating these. Quite supportive.

The confidential secretary came to pick up the tipsy Julian, while Dianna looked at Mort on the sofa. The man’s tall back rested lazily on the sofa; he looked drunk, eyes closed, calm and quiet, unlike some men who make a scene when drunk.

Dianna bent over to clear the dishes from the table, intending to help him to bed after cleaning up.

Entering the kitchen, she put all the dishes in the sink, turned on the tap, and washed her hands first.

Just as she was about to wash the dishes, two strong arms came around from behind, pulling her into an embrace.

Her slender and petite body was pulled against his iron-like frame, breathing in his familiar, rich masculine scent mixed with a faint whiff of alcohol. Her heart sweetened, she softly said, "Aren’t you drunk? Go rest; I’ll join you after I wash the dishes."

Mort held her tightly, showing no signs of drunkenness, burying his head in her soft neck, inhaling her scent from her hair, "Why do you smell so good?" he murmured hoarsely.

Dianna’s small face turned red instantly. With their bodies pressed closely together, she could already feel his strong, muscular power, "Mort, let go first; I need to wash the dishes."

"Don’t wash them. Leave it to me. Now... take care of me first."

"..."

What did he say?

Mort lifted her easily, carrying her towards the bedroom as she protested, "You... you can’t bully me just because you’re drunk. I... I wasn’t ready... next time you have to make a reservation."

"Little lady, dare to argue again?" Mort growled low by her ear, dragging her out while holding her.

Dianna clung to the sink, her pearly teeth biting into her red lower lip, reluctant to yield.

He was unreasonable.

She was washing dishes peacefully, hadn’t even showered yet, she wouldn’t agree.

Mort released her, letting her feet touch the ground, his big hand grasping her slender waist as he laughed wildly, "You chose this. Later, don’t cry!"

What did he mean?

Dianna couldn’t comprehend what he meant when she heard, from behind, the sound of a man unbuckling his belt...

Her pupils shrank instantly, letting out a sharp scream, "Mort, don’t you dare!"

Mort chuckled in a low, husky voice, "Let’s see if I dare or not."

...

Mort carried Dianna out of the bathroom, gently placing her on the large bed in the room.

Dianna’s long, wet hair, creamy white skin, and flushed face made her look like a little water demon emerging from the depths, entrancing men.

She trembled weakly, butterfly-wing lashes fluttering, feeling sore all over. Since being with Mort, she couldn’t get out of bed the next day.

How would she ever face the kitchen again?

How could she cook in the kitchen?

This man, rotten to the core!

As she pondered, Mort approached, the bed sinking under his weight, his rough hand holding a hairdryer, "Turn around, I’ll dry your hair."

Girls shouldn’t sleep with wet hair; they’d get headaches later in life.

Dianna grumbled as she turned, offering her slender back to him.

Mort dried her hair, his downward gaze taking in her small face, her coquettish, pouty demeanor leaving him feeling weak, "I didn’t take care of you just now?"

"..."

How could he even say such things?

Dianna gave him the silent treatment.

Mort ran his big hand through her soft hair, surprised by its incredible softness and fragrance.

Such a woman’s scent.

"Not talking to me?"

Dianna remained silent.

"Really ignoring me?" Mort asked again.

She still didn’t speak.

"Fine, I’m leaving then." Finishing her hair, Mort put away the dryer and stood to leave.

He was leaving?

Dianna quickly turned her head, grabbing his sleeve, "Where are you going?"

Mort looked down at her, "To wash dishes."

"Don’t. Leave them for tomorrow."

Mort raised one heroic eyebrow, tossing the hairdryer onto the sofa, then pressed his body down, "I was thinking the same thing."

"..."

Then the melodic ringtone of her phone sounded; Dianna had a call.

She glanced at it, realizing it was from Dotty.